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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27819553">Advent Calender 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblobfishwrites/pseuds/theblobfishwrites'>theblobfishwrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Advent Calendar, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Grief/Mourning, Humor, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Winter, Winter Solstice, wrongly assumed character death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:13:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>34,973</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27819553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblobfishwrites/pseuds/theblobfishwrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A new drabble or oneshot everyday until Christmas, following the Continent's favourite found family and what they're up to in the winter season.</p><p>Based on this <a href="https://justablobfish.tumblr.com/post/633606049648246784/christmas-writing-prompt/">prompt list</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Winter expectations vs. winter reality</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So I wanted to write a bunch of stand alone stories for these prompts, but somehow they decided to all be (loosely) connected. Not in chronological order, though. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prologue</p><p> </p><p>Like every year, Jaskier spends his winter at Oxenfurt Academy. </p><p> </p><p>Many things have been said about what his elected home town is like in the winter season. </p><p> </p><p>In one of his novels, the great wordsmith Mariusz Tomkiewicz describes the market stalls that pop up all over the place as soon as the first snow falls as little wonder booths. Decorated with magic lights flashing in different colours and selling curious delicacies from all over the continent, he claims they invite one to step into a whole new world. Here one may indulge in the offered cookies and chocolates, spiced with exotic sounding ingredients such as cinnamon, clove and nutmeg. </p><p> </p><p>In her memoirs "A Life of Wonder" Nadya Zoltowska fondly remembers citizens hurrying between the various different taverns, the smell of eggnog wafting through the air whenever a door opens, while the city guards huddled around fire braziers appear indistinguishable in their unmoving state from the snowmen that pop up on every street corner. </p><p> </p><p>In his poem collection "Seasons of Love", Valdo Marx compares the bright and colorful winter hats students like to wear to a field of flowers in spring, spreading through the streets and alleys of the town. Not an incorrect observation, per se, but terribly uninspired as always. </p><p> </p><p>And when the director of Oxenfurt Academy was asked why the university closes its gates during the height of the winter season, they explained that the cheers and laughter hanging in the air, as students use makeshift sleds to race each other down the slopes of the hill Oxenfurt Academy was built on, is well worth taking a bit of a break from dry lecturing. </p><p> </p><p>However, they're all wrong. </p><p>Winter at Oxenfurt means no Geralt.</p><p>Winter at Oxenfurt is nothing but cold and lonely. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. We need to buy you winter clothing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier needs a new winter cloak. Geralt is at the end of his wits</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this one was inspired by a movie by German comedian Loriot. Not something I expected to inspire a Witcher fic, but I guess weirder things have happened ^^'</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"How about this one?" Geralt asks and holds up a thick woolen cloak. </p><p> </p><p>"It's black," Jaskier points out and goes back to rifling through a display at the back of the clothing store, as if his answer had been in any way sufficient. </p><p> </p><p>"So do you want it?" Geralt tries again; hopeful against his better judgment. </p><p> </p><p>"Absolutely not!" Jaskier snaps back. "You and your witch may be into the whole 'I'm mourning my will to live' aesthetic, but I prefer my wardrobe to be a bit more lively." </p><p> </p><p>"And yet, you're dating both of us," Geralt returns flatly. With a sigh, he puts the cloak back down and continues searching. </p><p> </p><p>A few days ago, Geralt had finally managed to work up the necessary courage and for the first time had asked Jaskier to join him at Kaer Morhen for the winter. The bard's response couldn't have been more enthusiastic and Geralt had felt like the happiest man on the Continent. </p><p>However, they had quickly determined that Jaskier’s winter clothes were made for someone who has the luxury of hibernating in a generously heated estate, curled up in front of an opulent hearth fire. For a place like Kaer Morhen, crumbling to pieces and with the constant company of a vicious draft, they needed something more practical. </p><p>So they went clothes shopping. They've been at it for hours and Geralt is almost starting to regret his invitation. Almost. </p><p> </p><p>"Look, Jaskier, I've been told this store has the most variety in all of Novigrad," he huffs, exasperated. "Surely you can find yourself a cloak that is to your liking." </p><p> </p><p>"Oh, yeah, sure, I can see the variety!" Jaskier snarks. "They really do have all the colours here. Mouse grey, dust grey, Ash grey, lead grey, and look, there's even some pavement grey over there! How exciting!" </p><p> </p><p>"Well, you'd better content yourself with grey, then," Geralt threatens. "If you spend all winter whining about the cold, I'll never hear the end of it from my brothers. And don't expect me to care for you if you catch the flu!" </p><p> </p><p>"Yes, yes, you're very concerned about my physical well-being, how very endearing," Jaskier replies dismissively. "But what about the psychological perspective? Just imagine what effects such drab colours will have on my health! I need colours, Geralt! Colours! What does this store have against some fresh yellow? Some applegreen?" </p><p> </p><p>As if summoned by that, the shop owner approaches. When they entered the store, all other patrons fled at the sight of the sour-looking Witcher, but Geralt had hoped that it would take some time longer before the clerk would work up the courage to kick them out.</p><p>"Have the gentleman come to a conclusion, then? What will it be?" </p><p> </p><p>"I guess," Geralt smirks as he picks up a light-grey cloak from one of the displays, "for the sake of my partners mental well-being, we're opting for a fresh stone grey." </p><p> </p><p>"What, no!" Jaskier protests and frantically rifles through the stack of wool in front of him. </p><p> </p><p>"Aha!" he exclaims after a short moment. "What about this one? It's purple!" </p><p> </p><p>It's also way out of their price range, Geralt notices with a quick glance at the price tag. </p><p> </p><p>"Are you sure you want the purple one," he prompts with fake seriousness. "Purple is not without risks, after all." </p><p> </p><p>"What?" Jaskier returns, the smug grin falling from his face as he holds the cloak further away from himself. "And why is that, exactly?" </p><p> </p><p>"Haven't you heard the legends? The legends about the curse?" Geralt teases and raises an eyebrow dramatically. A move he learned from Jaskier. </p><p> </p><p>"What? What curse?" Jaskier demands, face going pale. He eyes the cloak warily. </p><p> </p><p>"Well," Geralt sighs and watches, satisfied, how Jaskier squirms as he drags out the pregnant pause he's opted for. "Purple kills. Most nobles die wearing some purple item or another." </p><p> </p><p>He uses Jaskier’s moment of shock to drag one of the more affordable grey cloaks towards the clerk and presses the required amount of coin into his hands. Then he quickly leaves the store with the garment under his arm, while Jaskier splutters: "But nobles always wear purple! Geralt! Geralt, come back here! It's a royal color! Of course nobles die in it all the time! They wear nothing else! Geralt!" </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Treatment for the flu/ a cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Geralt vs. the man flu</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"This is entirely your fault!" Geralt groans as he drapes his arm over his eyes. It's barely past sunrise and there's thick, fluffy clouds hanging in the sky, so there's only dim light falling in through the windows. And yet Geralt acts like he's nearly being blinded. </p><p>Jaskier sighs and gets up to pull the curtains closed. He supposes they'll be staying at the inn another day. </p><p> </p><p>"And how exactly is that my fault?" Jaskier asks once he's returned to the chair next to Geralt's bed. </p><p> </p><p>"Do I really have to remind you of what you did?" Geralt croaks. Strange, normally he would have just opted for a noncommittal hum. Maybe he's trying out the way his voice sounds even deeper than usual. Jaskier is really rather jealous of that glorious bass. </p><p> </p><p>"You mean how I suggested you bring Yennefer some pretty flowers for her birthday and you decided to bring her a bouquet of buttercups?" Jaskier asks for clarification. "They're weeds, Geralt! This is entirely on you. You can't just gift a bunch of weeds to a beautiful lady!" </p><p> </p><p>Geralt opens his mouth to, no doubt, explain his genius train of thought that led to their current predicament and why exactly he's blaming it on Jaskier, but the words get swallowed up by a coughing fit. His body jerks into a sitting position and his shoulders tremble with every hack. </p><p> </p><p>"You're right!" Jaskier agrees solemnly as he rubs soothing circles into Geralt's aching back. "Yennefer should have cursed me instead. I am the true culprit here!" </p><p> </p><p>"Exactly!" Geralt huffs after a moment, once the coughing has subsided and he's got his breathing under control again. </p><p> </p><p>Jaskier sighs dramatically and drapes his wrist across his forehead for emphasis. </p><p>"You must hate me so much right now," he whines. "I'm sure my face is the last thing you want to see. I'll go get my own room and leave you to recover in peace." </p><p> </p><p>"No!" Geralt yells, though his voice breaks halfway through the syllable and it comes out more of a shocked whisper. He snatches Jaskier’s wrist, just as he's getting up from his chair. The grip is surprisingly lax, compared to how Geralt usually manhandles him. </p><p> </p><p>"Please don't leave me!" Geralt huffs and stares up at Jaskier with wide, almost panicked eyes. "I don't want to die alone," he confesses quietly. </p><p> </p><p>Jaskier snorts. "Last week a fiend nearly chewed off your leg and all you had to say was 'it'll heal, Jaskier. Stop fretting, Jaskier', and today you're being bested by the common cold?" </p><p> </p><p>"I want you to have Roach. You'll take good care of her," Geralt sniffles miserably and sinks back into his pillows, releasing Jaskier’s wrist. "Eskel should have my swords. And make sure they burn my body so it won't attract any necrophages." </p><p> </p><p>"I have to give it to Yennefer, this really is a perfect revenge for your misstep with the flowers," Jaskier muses. </p><p> </p><p>"How can you be on her side?" Geralt gasps. "There's tiny knives cutting at my throat, my head is about to explode from all that pressure in it and my lungs don't seem to-" the speech is interrupted by a garbled breath, and then another. "-don't seem to-" </p><p> </p><p>Before Jaskier knows what's happening, the hand is back on his wrist and with a sudden tug he's lying on top of Geralt.</p><p>"Fuck, Jaskier, I can't breathe!" </p><p> </p><p>"I'm sure dropping an entire bard on your chest is going to help immensely with that," Jaskier chides and rolls his eyes fondly. "And the way your Witcher strength returned all of a sudden to pull me down is no doubt a sign that your end is nigh," he adds and gently brushes a strand of white hair from Geralt's forehead. </p><p> </p><p>"And you're certain I'm not dying?" Geralt asks, unconvinced. "It sure feels like I am. I wouldn't wish such horrors on my worst enemies!" </p><p> </p><p>"Let's put it like this," Jaskier says matter-of-factly as he's climbing over Geralt's prone figure and out of the bed again. "I catch a cold nearly every winter while you're enjoying yourself in Kaer Morhen's hot springs, and I have yet to succumb to it." </p><p> </p><p>"You've endured this torture not just once, but several years in a row?" Geralt asks incredulously. "But- but humans are so fragile! And you especially!" </p><p> </p><p>"Wow, okay, rude," Jaskier huffs as he makes his way to the door. </p><p> </p><p>"No, wait, I'm sorry, don't leave me!" Geralt grumbles again and stretches out both his hands towards Jaskier. </p><p>Jaskier runs a hand down his face in mock exasperation, to hide the amused grin. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm only getting you some tea, Geralt. I'll be back in a moment," he reassures him. </p><p> </p><p>"What if I do die in the meantime?" Geralt whispers, dread dripping from his hoarse voice. </p><p> </p><p>"Then, my dear," Jaskier muses, "I'll be sure to take good care of Roach and have your body saved from the necrophages." </p><p> </p><p>The pillow Geralt throws at him only hits the closed door. Jaskier knows when to make a quick exit. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Getting the person who doesn’t like Christmas into the right festive mood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Family Fluff with Yen and Ciri</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I really don't see the appeal," Yennefer sighs as Ciri watches her over the edge of the magic tome they are studying. </p><p> </p><p>"But it'll be the first time everyone comes together for the midwinter solstice!" Ciri whines. "Last year was that whole thing where Jaskier couldn't make it because of his stupid family and two years ago Lambert's dumbass boyfriend got him delayed until the path was snowed over. But this year, everyone can make it as long as you are there as well!" </p><p> </p><p>"I thought you liked Lambert's boyfriend?" Yennefer attempts to distract. She never enjoyed the winter solstice celebrations. A holiday designed to honour one's family. There isn't much to honour where she comes from. </p><p> </p><p>"I like him fine when he doesn't get Lambert in trouble," Ciri pouts. </p><p> </p><p>"It's practically all he does, though. Getting Lambert in trouble, I mean," Yennefer points out. </p><p> </p><p>"Well, not when Lambert is getting him in trouble," Ciri returns with a lopsided grin. "But we're digressing. Are you coming to Kaer Morhen for the solstice or not?" </p><p> </p><p>Yennefer sighs deeply. "I'm afraid it's simply not possible. I can't just close the store. What if someone needs to buy a potion or some rare ingredients?" </p><p> </p><p>"You close the store for the summer solstice, though," Ciri pouts. "All your usual customers will be either celebrating with their families as well or performing complex rituals."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, what if there's someone needing a last minute ingredient for one of those rituals?" she huffs, only to add with a smirk of her own: "I couldn't possibly forgive myself if I hindered one of my client's attempts at an apocalyptic ritual of world domination!" </p><p> </p><p>"Ugh, fine, since business is the only language you speak, I suppose I'll have to bribe you," Ciri complains with a roll of her eyes. "If you celebrate the solstice with us, I promise I'll get you fresh bread rolls straight from the bakery for the next three Sundays in a row!" </p><p> </p><p>"You do that anyway," Yennefer points out, amused. "Might it have to do with the baker's handsome daughter?" </p><p> </p><p>"Not that, then," Ciri splutters, her face bright red. "How about I take that green hair dye you made and mix it into the hair lotion Jaskier always gets for Geralt?" </p><p> </p><p>"How is that a bribe?" Yennefer exclaims. "Geralt will murder you for it and then I'll have to deal with Jaskier being all upset and disappointed. You know I can't deal with him when he gets all emotional!" </p><p> </p><p>"Come ooon, Yennefer!" Ciri pleads with big eyes. "Please come! It would make me so happy!" </p><p> </p><p>Yennefer sighs deeply. </p><p>"Well, ugly one, I suppose I taught you too well. You finally found the right bribe to convince me. If it makes you happy, I guess I have no choice but to be there." </p><p> </p><p>"What, really?" Ciri beams. </p><p> </p><p>"Yes, really," Yennefer confirms and for some reason, the idea of celebrating the solstice doesn't sound all that terrible anymore. </p><p>"On the other hand, though… That part about the hair dye. It does sound intriguing. Care to elaborate on the plan?" </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Snowball fight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It's quiet at the little cottage Yennefer precured for them. Which means Geralt and Ciri are doing what they're always doing when there's some time to spare. They're out back for sword fighting lessons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier closes his cloak tighter around his shoulders and shivers as he watches them. It's gotten pretty cold over the last couple of days to the point that a thick layer of snow is covering the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he should have followed Yennefer's example and stayed inside. Though, while Yennefer busies herself with cataloguing all the souls she has stolen from innocent people or whatever, Jaskier would probably just be bored with nothing to do. The clashing of swords and Ciri's cursing when Geralt gets another hit in at least provide ample entertainment. While the swordsmanship still needs practice, Ciri's collection of swear words has become quite colorful ever since the four of them started traveling together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Personally, Jaskier thinks it's a sign the girl could use a bit of a break. Whenever she's not training with Geralt, Yennefer has her practice spells without end. Which is, of course, essential if the most hunted teenager in the world wants to stand any kind of chance at survival. However, Geralt and Yennefer seem to forget sometimes that she is indeed only a teenager. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe there's something Jaskier can do about that whole dilemma, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt and Ciri are sufficiently distracted and pay him no mind as he sets out to prepare his nefarious plan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He waits for just the right moment, when Ciri places her foot wrong and gives Geralt an opening to strike. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Smack</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The snowball Jaskier gathered hits Geralt in the middle of his left pectoral. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri uses the split second of confusion to gather herself and place a strike of her own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes! Score!" Jaskier screams excitedly. "Score for the princess! Well done Ciri!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stop meddling, Jaskier!" Geralt grumbles as he turns to Jaskier and takes a threatening step forward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jaskier lies through his teeth and dons his most innocent expression. "Ciri won that round fair and square. Are you telling me you're a sore loser?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt lets out a deep growl in response, but he does turn back to Ciri. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Again!" he huffs and gets back into fighting position. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, that's an order Jaskier is more than happy to follow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once again he waits until it becomes clear that Ciri is losing ground in their fight. Just as Geralt is about to take advantage of an opening in her defense, a pile of snow hits him in the face. A moment later, his sword goes flying and Ciri points her own blade at his throat triumphantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier!" Geralt presses out as he wipes the projectile out of his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, darling?" Jaskier grins back as he leans onto the railing of the wooden porch he's standing on. "Is there something you need?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt starts trudging in his direction and Jaskier knows he's reached the end of his short life. He has no regrets, though. The look of barely contained glee on Ciri's face is well worth it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Again!" Ciri demands with all the royal authority she can muster. "Or are you giving up already?" she adds with a wide smirk and a wink at Jaskier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stop meddling!" Geralt orders in Jaskier’s direction before he turns around to pick up his discarded sword and get back into battle position. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier let's out the breath he's been holding. Once again he escaped the whims of fate by a hair's width. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course that doesn't mean he has any intention to stop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, Geralt can't be fooled for long. This time, he manages to dodge Jaskier’s snowy assault and even disarms Ciri in one swift motion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's enough!" he snarls as he makes his way toward Jaskier again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh well. He's had a fulfilling life. There's worse ways to go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Smack </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Jaskier is confused why Geralt stopped in his tracks again. Then the Witcher turns around and Jaskier can see clumps of white clinging to the dark leather on his shoulder, as well as the guilty look on Ciri's face. Jaskier’s heart warms at the realization that once again, she came to his rescue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The whole backyard seems to hold its breath in anticipation of what Geralt's going to do now. What kind of punishment he will distribute for the audacity of interrupting training like that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine. Have it your way!" Geralt huffs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Jaskier can even attempt to beg for mercy, a flurry of snowballs comes flying his way. He shrieks and runs for cover, though most of them hit their mark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He darts towards a nearby tree and presses his back to the trunk on the side facing away from the relentless Witcher. A moment later, Ciri bumps into his chest and clings to the flaps of his cloak as if holding on for dear life. The way she's dripping wet from head to toe tells Jaskier that she wasn't faring much better than him at avoiding Geralt's revenge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nonetheless there's a bright smile on her face and she's giggling uncontrollably. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Come on," she beams. "Together we can take him down! You attack from the front and I'll circle around to the house so we can flank him." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That means I get to draw all the fire while you sneak in position," Jaskier points out with mock outrage. "Alright, fine, I'm in," he adds after a moment and dodges out of the safety of the tree. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Immediately he's hit in the chest. The next projectile hits his arms which he raises protectively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're dead, Jaskier," Geralt growls before he launches another one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm well aware!" Jaskier shouts back as he tries and fails to get a hit in himself. But he can see Ciri making her way towards the advantage position of the raised porch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck, Geralt notices her, too, with a glance over his shoulder. The look on his face is full of pride over Ciri's tactical prowess. Then he spins around and scoops up a handful of snow to hurl at Ciri. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He misses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's no room for cheers or smugness, though. Because as fate would have it, in that exact moment Yennefer steps out onto the porch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment everyone just stares at the clumps of snow sticking to her sternum. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What. Exactly. Is going on here?" she asks, excruciatingly drawing out each word. Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it's colder and more piercing than any icy winter wind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uh oh," Geralt mumbles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It was nice knowing you," Jaskier whispers and takes a large step away from Geralt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Aren't you supposed to be playing around with your silly little swords?" Yennefer demands, head held high in indignation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We uh," Ciri stutters as she stumbles backwards until her back hits Geralt's chest. "We were having a snowball fight." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I see," Yennefer returns harshly. "So that's the kind of nonsense you teach the future queen of Cintra?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier gulps. Geralt opens his mouth, then closes it again without saying something. Ciri stares at the ground, face bright red. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, Ciri," Yennefer continues, though her voice sounds weirdly different now. Jaskier chances a glance at her and catches a wide grin creeping into her features. "As usual, these boys are utterly useless. Allow me to demonstrate some actually useful skills." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that, Yennefer raises her hands and the whole world turns white. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Heavy winds push against Jaskier as snow flies around him in angry swirls. Geralt, who only stood a few feet beside him, has completely vanished from view. There is only the snow storm around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to resist, but soon enough he's pushed off his balance and shoved this way and that until he's no longer certain where left and right are. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As quickly as it started, the storm subsides again, leaving the skies clear and bright blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier finds himself sitting at the base of the very same tree he took cover behind earlier. Aside from being drenched from head to toe, though, everything seems to be fine. All his limbs are still attached where they belong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lets out a deep, relieved sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's his mistake. The sound seems to be enough to cause the leaves above him to shed their newly acquired coating. An avalanche of snow falls down and buries Jaskier under a large heap of white. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cursing and spluttering, he fights himself free, leaving behind a Jaskier-shaped hole. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wipes the snow out of his eyes and looks around. Ciri is cowering a few feet away, spitting out mouthfuls of snow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Geralt? Well… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing visible of the mighty Witcher is a pair of leather-clad legs, sticking up straight towards the sky from a pile of snow. The left leg twitches slightly, but there is no purchase to be gained in order for Geralt to free himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier hurries over and grabs each leg with one of his hands. He gives them a vigorous tug and manages to produce the rest of the Witcher out of the snow heap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I would have managed," Geralt complains once he's gotten his legs under him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier ignores him and glances up at the porch, where Yennefer leans against the side of the door and grins smugly at their misery. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And </span>
  <em>
    <span>that's </span>
  </em>
  <span>how you win a snowball fight," she muses. "Now come inside, you lot, I've put up some tea." </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Hot tea and cozy sweaters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Yennefer rushes through the opulent hallways of Oxenfurt Academy, ignoring the horny but frightened glances some of the older students throw at her. She doesn't have time for such shenanigans. There are more important things to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stops by the familiar door in the professors' quarters and knocks heavily, barely able to contain her excitement. Not that she would ever show that on the outside, of course. To the untrained eye, she appears perfectly calm. And yet, she has been looking forward to this little tradition of theirs for ages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opens immediately and Jaskier greets her, his own excitement very visible in the way he bounces back and forth on his heels and barely manages to stand still. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yennefer! You made it!" he beams. "Come in!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I wouldn't miss our little tradition for anything in the world," she returns with a bright grin of her own, her protective walls crumbling down in the presence of her beloved. "The one I got you is extremely beautiful. You'll weep when you see it." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't get ahead of yourself, dear,"Jaskier chides as he picks up a beautifully wrapped parcel from a nearby table. "The one I got you is excellent as well." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yennefer pulls her own present out of her bags and with a flourished bow from Jaskier and a curtly nod from herself, they exchange the parcels. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yennefer rips open her gift without much care and holds this year's ugly sweater up to her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Attached to the thick, bright red chest part is a wreath made from evergreen twigs. Tiny brass bells hang from it. Woven into the pattern of the knitwear are images of candles that appear to be rising from the wreath. When Yennefer hovers her hand over the tip of the candles, they start humming with faint magic and glow brightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh Jaskier, it's hideous," she sighs. "I love it. Open yours!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier unwraps his parcel and inspects the sweater Yennefer had gotten for him. The front of the green sweater shows a stylized picture of a man. It's head is cut off and the image ends just underneath the neckline, so that the sweater makes it appear like the wearer's head is also the head of the depicted man. The outfit the picture dons is very familiar to Jaskier. It's the same kind of outfit his nemesis Valdo Marx tends to wear when he participates in bardic competitions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Once again, you've outdone yourself, my dear," he muses. Let's get changed and have some tea?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course," Yennefer replies. "There's the second part of the tradition, after all." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A short while later they are sitting at Jaskier’s tea table, donned in their respective sweaters and sipping tea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You start," Yennefer orders with as much authority as she can muster in this outfit. "What stupid things did Geralt do this year?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh boy, where do I start," Jaskier teases as he rubs his fingers together in excitement. "There was that one time when he visited me in Oxenfurt during the summer break. I decided I'd prepare a romantic dinner for us. Cooked it all myself and even bought the extra long spaghetti noodles, just to be fancy, ya know?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh I dread where this is going," Yennefer throws in. "What happened then?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well he was all awkward during dinner," Jaskier muses. "Kept shuffling around in his seat and glaring daggers at his plate like the noodles had personally offended him. But you know how he is when there's a problem. Wouldn't say something even if it killed him. I watched him squirm for, I kid you not, ten full minutes until I eventually asked what was wrong."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I hope he didn't have a problem with your cooking?" Yennefer asks. "I don't know how you do it, but your meals are always exquisite!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, none of that," Jaskier reassures. "He looked up at me with big eyes and sheepishly admitted that he prefers to cut his spaghetti short with a knife. Like, who does that? He simply had no idea how to eat them with a spoon or fork!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh that's brilliant!" Yennefer snickers. "I can definitely imagine him sitting there, not wanting to say anything but not able to eat his dinner, either! But I also have a story in terms of awkward dates: You already know that for my birthday this year Geralt got me a bunch of buttercups he picked from the side of the road. But did I ever tell you what else happened that day?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm almost scared to ask," Jaskier admits with a wide grin. "Though I guess I should be glad Geralt screwed up or else you would have been pissed at me for not being able to make it to your birthday this year." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, admittedly, I was rather sad about that," Yennefer agrees. "Which is why Geralt promised that after the party Triss insisted on throwing me, he would be waiting for me at the place I stayed then and that we could do whatever I wanted in the bedroom." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Now that's an offer up your alley," Jaskier points out. "Especially coming from Geralt. And that didn't sway you to forgive the buttercup incident?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It would have," Yennefer sighs. "But that's not the end of the story. Well, I got changed before leaving the party, so I came home wearing nothing but a coat and this really nice set of lingerie that I specifically bought myself for my birthday and paid a pretty penny for and what do I find once I make my way to the bedroom?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I have no idea, but I fear the worst!" Jaskier giggles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So there I was," Yennefer continues, "leaning in the doorframe like your most exquisite fantasy come true and what do I find once I flicked on a candle? Geralt, sprawled out in the middle of the bed, snoring softly. He was vast asleep, out like a candle in a storm!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh no!" Jaskier gasps before they both burst out into laughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, Geralt rode all the way from Oxenfurt in only a fortnight!" he adds once they've gotten themselves under control again. "It's only understandable that he was tired. I hope you didn't tell him to his face that he snored, though. I tried that before, but he denies everything!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't I know it," Yennefer sighs. "I thought cursing him with a cold would be a good punishment for everything, but the snoring only got worse!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sure it wasn't as bad as last month, when we took that contract in Hommeln, though," Jaskier protests. "We could convince the fairies that plagued the town to behave, but Geralt managed to breathe in some fairy dust. When we camped in the woods that night, I didn't get a single moment of shut-eye. But that wasn't all! In the early morning a man suddenly stumbled into our camp and screamed bloody murder! It took a while to calm him down, but in the end it turned out he was from the local lumberjack guild and thought we were felling trees in his forest. And do you know what Geralt said about the snoring once we managed to placate the poor man?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He blamed it on you?" Yennefer guesses, grinning widely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He blamed it on me!" Jaskier repeats and throws his hands in the air, exasperated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They look at each other for a moment and then burst out in laughter. Yennefer enjoys the rare sensation of being allowed to let loose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sometimes I wonder if Geralt is doing the same thing up in Kaer Morhen," Jaskier wonders after a while, still slightly out of breath. "Does he tell his brothers embarrassing stories about the two of us?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Impossible!" Yennefer exclaims. The tiny bells on her sweater jingle slightly as she leans forward conspiratorially. "We never do anything embarrassing!" </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Giving subtle hints of what one would like to get for Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"What ya got there?" Jaskier asked on that fateful day a week ago as he carelessly dropped himself into Geralt's lap. And that's how it all started. With a letter and Jaskier’s unquenchable curiosity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Summons from the Prince of Attre," Geralt answered, a fact he much regrets by now. "He's got a contract for me." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ooh, it's made out 'To the White Wolf'", Jaskier beamed as he shamelessly skimmed over the letter. "You're famous enough now that people request you personally! I'm a genius and you're very welcome!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"For some reason the prince wants me to catch the Ur alive, though. I'll be needing Yennefer's help to put it down without killing it," Geralt pointed out. "So you'll have to stay here and watch Ciri. We'll prepare and set off in a few days." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ugh, fine," Jaskier whined. "But don't complain when the house burns down again. What noble did Yennefer mind control that we can stay here again? I'm sure they won't mind having to redecorate a little!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know what you're doing, Jaskier, and it won't work. With Yennefer's portals we won't be gone for longer than two days. I'm sure you'll manage to control yourself and the little menace till then." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"See, darling, that's what I love about you. Despite much evidence to the contrary, you never stop believing in my abilities." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt snorted at that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wait a second, though, the Prince of Attre. That means you'll be close to Cintra, right?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm," Geralt confirmed, and then added the one little word he still regrets uttering to this day: "Why?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Jaskier had told him at length about this flower that supposedly only grows in the region near Cintra. When Ciri appeared to drag him off to sword training, he had been more than relieved to escape the lecture. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, that wasn't the last of it. From then on out, Jaskier used every opportunity he could find to gush about this stupid flower. It's unparalleled beauty, it's lovely aroma, the intricate symbolism connected to it. Geralt started dreaming about the damn thing, his mind producing a perfect picture of the stupid weed from Jaskier’s descriptions alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn't the only victim, either. One night, when he headed back to his room after he had taken advantage of their luxurious temporary home and enjoyed a lengthy bath, he nearly ran into Yennefer, bursting out of the library and clearly agitated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If I hear one more word about that stupid flower I'm going to murder him!" she snapped as she disappeared around the corner. "And now I'm running late for my lesson with Ciri!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yet, now that he and Yennefer are actually on the trail of the beast they were hired to catch, he can't help but look out for those little white flower buds Jaskier described. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What even does he want with that stupid thing?" Geralt mumbles under his breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yennefer seems to have heard him, though. She clicks her tongue in annoyance and replies: "I hear it works as an aphrodisiac. Some people use it in perfumes." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Great, " Geralt deadpans. "As if we didn't have enough problems on our hands. I haven't seen Ciri smile in weeks for some reason and all Jaskier can talk about is some weird sex plant." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's the winter solstice that has Ciri in a bad mood," Yennefer explains, her voice going soft. "For most people it's just a day of amplified magic, but in Cintra it's traditionally a celebration to honor one's family. She misses them a lot and it only gets worse around this time of the year." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck," is all Geralt can think to reply. He wishes he had some sort of solution, some way of cheering Ciri up. Usually he and Yennefer turn to Jaskier for help with the emotional stuff, since they both don't deal with such topics all too well. But when Jaskier has his mind set on a project, it's hard to get him to focus on anything else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt brushes aside yet another curtain of leaves, still dripping wet from last night's rain shower, and suddenly finds himself at the end of the monster's trail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glowing red eyes stare back at him. Despite standing on four hooved legs, the Ur is at eye level with Geralt. It's huge, even for its kind. Thick skin covered in short black fur stretches over a massive bulk of muscle. The forward protruding horns are easily as long as Geralt's forearm and Geralt has no doubt that his armour will be of little use if the creature decides to gore him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, they stare at each other in equal surprise. Then the monster lets out a puff of hot breath and charges at him. Geralt quickly dodges out of its way, pulling Yennefer to safety with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Keep it distracted while I cast the spell!" Yennefer orders as he spins around to face the beast again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Easier said than done. The monster has turned back around as well and is pawing at the rain-slick ground with its hoofs, ready to pounce. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's when he sees it. Smack in the middle between the angry Ur and himself there's a tiny fleck of white sitting between the lush greens of the forest. One of Jaskier’s dumb plants. And the creature is just about to race over it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt curses and throws an Aard sign in the direction of the monster, just as it comes running at him again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bulky mass of muscles is unimpressed by his weak spell though, and doesn't slow down in the slightest. Geralt barely manages to throw himself to the side and avoid being trampled to death. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's nothing he can do for the flower though. And as if that weren't enough, his evasion manoeuvre landed him smack in the middle of a mud puddle. Just great. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Merely a heart beat later, there's a loud crash and a tremor that shakes the earth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alarmed, Geralt jumps to his feet, brushes the mud-greased hair out of his eyes and tries to make out the source of the disruption. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seems his Aard sign had some effect, after all. It has thrown the Ur off course enough that it collided with a nearby tree with so much force that it split the thick wood in half. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His task is taken care of. The monster lies at the foot of the tree, dazed and unmoving. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good thing you brought me along!" Yennefer sighs, exhausted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt turns around, ready to snap at her that being caked in mood isn't how he had planned to finish this contract, when he notices that Yennefer's attention is neither on him nor the beast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He follows her gaze until his eyes fall on the little white-petaled flower that still stands in the middle of the forest, surrounded by deep, heavy hoof prints in the mud, but the flower itself is untouched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bubble of crackling energy glimmers around it for another moment, before Yennefer drops the spell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seems that no matter how ridiculous Jaskier’s requests are, neither he nor Yennefer can deny the bard his wishes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't suppose he told you what part of the damn thing he actually needs?" Geralt grunts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At Yennefer's "no idea" he sighs and uses his dagger to remove the entire plant from the ground, roots and all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They deliver the knocked-out monster to the prince, who takes one look at Geralt's muddied appearance and the thick carpet he's dripping on, and practically throws them out of his estate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does pay full price though, and even a little on top, so Geralt certainly won't complain about not having to exchange pleasantries and about getting back to their temporary home a little sooner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they return, the house is still standing, despite Jaskier’s threats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bard comes to meet them in the hallway and squeaks delightedly at the sight of the flower Geralt is carefully holding cupped in his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A moment later, Jaskier is gone again, vanished through one of the many doors in a colorful swirl of silk even Geralt's eyes barely manage to follow. He gapes at his now empty hands, where only a layer of grime and earth remains. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck was that?" Yennefer curses. "We go through all this trouble and he can't even muster a thanks?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm," Geralt replies as he slowly lowers his arms. "He never actually asked if we could get it either." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, that little bastard! When I get my hands on him I'm gonna…" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer doesn't specify what exactly she intends to do to Jaskier, though the way she trails her finger over her throat speaks for itself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If you can wait till I've washed this all off myself, I'll be happy to assist you," Geralt grumbles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine," Yennefer sighs dramatically. "I guess I should check on Ciri anyway.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An hour later, when Geralt is finally clean, dry and warm again, they meet up to go on search for the bratty troubadour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's not in his room though, and not in Geralt's either. Furthermore, Geralt's alchemy tools seem to be untouched. If Jaskier wants to use the plant for some weird sex perfume, wouldn't he need the alchemy tools to prepare the plant? The mortar and pestle are clean, though and haven't been used recently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Think he's hiding?" Yennefer asks after glancing over his shoulder. "He's gotta be somewhere. Let's keep looking." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Jaskier is not in the library or the study or Yennefer's room and in the dining room they only find Ciri, perched over a thick tome and looking as miserable as the days before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why are you studying here?" Geralt asks, confused. "Isn't it more comfortable in the library?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier told me to wait here," Ciri replies without looking up. "Said he has a surprise for me." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In that moment, Jaskier enters, through the door to the kitchen, of all places. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't look at all like he just created an enticing perfume. The checkered apron with frills on the rim Jaskier wears is the last thing Geralt would describe as sexy and his hair is lined with strands of white. It takes Geralt a moment to realise that Jaskier hasn't aged ten years in the past hour, but that there's flour stuck in his hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ciri! There you are!" Jaskier calls out and holds out a small, round box made of sheet metal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Curios Ciri inspects the contents of the box. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are those Cintran winter solstice stars?" she gasps. "Oh, Jaskier, you shouldn't have!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You mentioned eating them at the solstice with your grandmother the other day, so I just had to make you a batch," Jaskier returns with a self-satisfied grin. "Go on, have one!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri picks out one of the cookies, which are indeed star-shaped, and carefully nibbles on it. Then her eyes go wide with surprise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They taste just right! How did you do that?" she exclaims. "I bought imitations in nearly every bakery on the Continent during our travels, but they never tasted quite like they did at home!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, you see, there is a secret ingredient," Jaskier offers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know!" Ciri blurts out. "It's love, isn't it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She presses a quick kiss to Jaskier’s cheek as she wrestles the box from his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not sharing, they're all mine!" she yells and darts past Geralt and Yennefer and out the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt doesn't miss the bright, happy grin on her face, though. The first of its kind in weeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So, what are you two doing here?" Jaskier asks as he runs a hand through his hair, further spreading the flour. "And why do you have that look on your faces like I'm in trouble?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, you're in trouble, all right," Yennefer purrs as she launches herself at the bard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ugh, what did I do to deserve such terrible treatment?" Jaskier huffs, his voice muffled by Yennefer's embrace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt scoops up a stray bit of cookie dough that found its way to the tip of Jaskier’s nose and tastes it, before he joins in on the hug and wraps his arms around Jaskier and Yennefer. The dough tastes very sweet, though not at all like sugar or honey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thanks for getting me the vanilla plant, by the way," Jaskier chuckles. "Ciri really needed that reminder of home." </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Decoration wars (must include glitter)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Yennefer!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door to her room bursts open suddenly and it's only through some kind of miracle that she doesn't drop the decanter full of moonshine extract into the concoction she's brewing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What. Do you. Want?" she demands without turning around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I need your help with something!" Jaskier gasps, slightly out of breath from running up the winding stairs of Kaer Morhen. A quiet thud tells her that he's placed a heavy object on the table in the middle of the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier," she throws over her shoulder impatiently, as if she were explaining to a child why it is a bad idea to run around with a knife in hand. "This experiment is extremely unstable. One drop too many and it might explode right in our faces. So can you </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>keep it down?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's not true, of course. But if she doesn't get this right, all her work of the past three hours would have been in vain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A loud bang shakes the crumbling walls of the keep. This time, she does drop the decanter. Green goo bubbles up and boils over the edges of her cauldron. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck was that?!" she snaps as she spins around to snarl at Jaskier. "Why is it that ever since you started coming to the Witcher keep things always devolve into chaos?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe that's not entirely fair to the bard, but she was working hard on this brew and now she has to start all over again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's all the fault of Lambert and that weird other Witcher he brought along," Jaskier pouts. "They found this weird contraption in a back alley market in Oxenfurt and now they need to try it out all over the place. That's actually what I came to talk to you about!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What contraption?" Yennefer sighs as she pinches the bridge of her nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, it's a long tube and if you light the end on fire, it shoots a bunch of coloured paper scraps out the other end," Jaskier explains. "Those two tasteless apes call what they're doing decorating. Can you imagine? With paper scraps! The audacity! The tastelessness!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if to accentuate his point, there's another bang coming from the room right below them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So you came to me to stop them?" Yennefer clarifies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What? No, of course not," Jaskier returns in surprise. "I need you to help me make better decorations! That's why I brought this." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He points at the table where he placed something earlier. It's a sack made of silk and filled to the brim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not that Yennefer is interested in joining in on the bard's shenanigans, but she is curious by nature. So she ventures closer and takes a peek into the bag. It contains a weird looking kind of powder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And what kind of poison is this for, exactly?" she inquires with a click of her tongue to signal that she's still annoyed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's ground down minerals. I bought it at the Passiflora, knowing it would come in handy one day. Prostitutes mix it with their makeup to make it sparkle." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Glitter," Yennefer concludes. "You bought a bag full of glitter. And what do you want me to do with it?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Put it in a bomb, of course!" Jaskier beams. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A bomb?" Yennefer asks, incredulous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Exactly!" Jaskier confirms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You want me to make a glitter bomb?" she asks again and runs a hand down her face, exasperated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes! It's the perfect response to this assault of the senses!" Jaskier marvels. "It'll be much prettier than paper scraps!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Get out," Yennefer sighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What, why?" Jaskier splutters. "What's wrong with my plan? It's perfect!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sure," Yennefer deadpans. "Aside from the risk of injury, the fact that this keep is already at the brink of collapse even without lighting a fucking bomb and that this stuff would be getting literally everywhere, including your clothes, where it will itch terribly, and your food and the-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, I get your point," Jaskier interrupts her. "It was only an idea…" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He clutches the glitter satchel to his chest and trails back out the door, pouting the whole time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a sigh she turns back to her failed project to see if there's anything she can salvage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is not, she determines in the exact same moment as another bang from Lambert and Aiden's toy echoes through the hallways. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grits her teeth and portals the cauldron into the backyard to discard its contents. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she returns to her room, Geralt is waiting for her with a squashed and sad-looking plant in his hands. Great. What now? Yennefer's patience is running more than thin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yen!" Geralt greets her. "I need your help. Lambert and Aiden are-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm in," Yennefer interrupts him. "I'll help you get rid of their dumb toy." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What? No, that's not it," Geralt clarifies. "They're clearly in love with each other, but Lambert refuses to acknowledge that, so Ciri and I are worried that he'll chase off the only person who seems capable of tolerating the bastard." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And what does that have to do with me?" Yennefer sighs. "Sounds like something you should discuss with the bard." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He's part of the plan, too," Geralt reassures her. "I need you to enchant this mistletoe so that it grows all over the ceiling of the main hall. Ciri is currently lighting candles all over the place, and we'll ask Jaskier to provide the music. It's a foolproof plan! According to Ciri, anyway." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dust trickles from the ceiling as Lambert's toy goes off once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Get. Out!" Yennefer orders between clenched teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But-" Geralt starts to protest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Now!” She screams and throws the door shut with an Aard sign as soon as Geralt scrambles through it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She's had enough of these shenanigans. If it's stupid decorations they want, then stupid decorations they shall get! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next morning, Kaer Morhen's halls are decorated with a myriad of pretty glass baubles which catch the light in them and dip everything in rainbow colors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The marvel of the various inhabitants of the keep doesn't last long, though. Every time someone passes by the strange items, a deep voice echoes through the halls, narrating whatever the people nearby are doing in a most critical and sarcastic manner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There goes the bard again, striding down the halls all importantly, as if he's not just trying to get away from his chores." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well someone forgot to lace up their trousers!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert glances down. His pants are fine. He falls for the same comment another two times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Attention everyone! The cat is out of the cradle. I repeat: The cat is out of the cradle and can't be contained!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or a simple "Hmm" spoken from whichever bauble Geralt's back is facing, causing him to flinch and spin around several times. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Sleigh rides</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>in the books Triss promises Ciri to go sleigh riding after their lesson. I imagine there aren't exactly many save places to do that around Kaer Morhen ^^'</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After their lesson in the Elder Speech and after the impromptu lesson in applying makeup, Ciri and Triss make their way to one of the softer slopes of the mountains surrounding the Witcher keep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sleigh they found at the very back of an unused tool shed trails behind them. Ciri is holding the other end of the piece of string they attached to its front. She doesn't seem to mind that it bumps into the back of her heels every couple of steps and keeps chattering away about this and that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss can't help but smile at her fondly. The one destined to change the whole world. But for now she's only a young girl, excited to go sleigh riding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This place seems good," Triss points out and stops Ciri by grabbing her arm. "You get on first since you're smaller, and then I'll sit behind you." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri aligns the sleigh towards the slope and pins it between her feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she attempts to sit down though, the sleigh escapes the grip of her calves and starts sliding forward by a foot or so until it is stopped by the string still in Ciri's hand. Ciri, however, already finds herself in the clutches of gravity and sits down heavily onto the snow where the sleigh stood a moment before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stare at each other for a moment of silent surprise before they both erupt in laughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Looks like the sleigh has a will of its own, little one," Triss giggles. "Let's see if you can tame it!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She helps Ciri up and together they bring the sleigh back into position. This time Triss holds onto the sleigh while Ciri sits down at the front. Then Ciri digs her heels into the snow while Triss climbs on behind her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ready?" Ciri beams and off they are, before Triss can point out that the slope looks a lot steeper from up here than it did when they were walking towards it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The slope turns out to be a lot more icy, too, than it appeared at first glance, the harder surface hidden under a thick layer of snow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They pick up speed fast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"C-c-c-ciri!" Triss stutters as the bumpy ground they drive over rattles every single bone in her body. "Try using your fe-e-eet to slow us down!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wheeeeee!" Ciri screams back over the icy wind biting their cheeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh no, there's a hill up ahead!" Triss notices with horror. "It'll lift us right into the air! Lean to the side so we can avoid it! No, Ciri, the other side!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it’s too late and the skids take off the ground. For a split second, Triss feels utterly at peace as all the weight falls off her body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn't last long. Suddenly, she can feel the sleigh trying to escape from underneath them. She quickly wraps her arms around Ciri's waist and clings to the sleigh with all the strength of her thighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A moment later they are back on the ground. The impact is harsh and will definitely leave horrendous bruises. Triss is not certain if her limbs are all in the right order anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's no time to sort herself out, though. The sleigh is already driving down again and the two of them are helplessly being dragged along. For some reason Ciri laughs wholeheartedly. She must have hit her head when the sleigh collided with the ground. No sane person could possibly enjoy this hellride! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The laughter cuts off abruptly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Triss! There's a tree right in front of us!" Ciri squeaks. "What do I do?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lean, little one!" Triss shouts bag. "Lean for your life!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They barely manage to avoid the tree. The sleigh tilts to the side until the left skid hangs freely in the air and a beat later it’s running along the bark of the tree instead of the ground, producing an abhorrent screeching noise. Then they're past. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything seems to pause for a moment. Then the sleigh tilts even further to the side and both sorceress and princess tumble into the snow surprisingly softly, all things considered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sleigh drifts further, now lying on its side, until it, too, comes to a halt several feet away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri is back on her feet in an instant. </span>
</p><p><span>"That. Was. </span><em><span>Amazing</span></em><span>!" she cheers with</span> <span>a fearlessness only children can muster. "Oh my! Triss! Are you alright?" </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Triss does indeed need a moment longer to process the sudden end of their journey down and to assess any potential injuries. She seems to be fine as well though, aside from a few bruises. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, Ciri, those Witchers, do they teach you well?" she asks finally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uhm? Yes, they do," Ciri replies, confused at the odd timing of such a question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And did they teach you what to do when you fall during an exercise?" Triss inquires further. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh!" Ciri nods. "Yes of course they have! First you get up-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if to demonstrate, Triss scrambles to her feet and dusts some snow off her dress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"-and then you get right back at it," Ciri continues. "Or you'll catch fear!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Very good," Triss praises. "So run and fetch the sleigh. It's a long walk back up and we still need to show this slope who's boss!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Really?" Ciri beams. "I didn't think you'd want to go again!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, what can I say?" Triss muses. "It would appear the fresh mountain air is detrimental to my mental health. Let's go!" </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Reading someone Christmas stories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Off to bed you go, little monster!" Jaskier demands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, not yet, please!" Ciri begs, even though she just almost fell asleep in front of the fireplace in Kaer Morhen’s large dining hall. "I want to stay up with you guys a little longer!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She makes her best puppy face at Jaskier and, once she realizes that it won't sway him, turns to face Geralt in the far corner of the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine," Geralt sighs after a long moment of trying to resist those large, watery eyes. "Jaskier can tell you a good night story. And then you're off to bed," he growls in a futile attempt to regain his authority. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yay!" Ciri cheers. "Jaskier, tell me about one of your adventures with Geralt!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"As you wish, your highness!" Jaskier grins. "This tale takes place in the depths of winter, mere days before the winter solstice, when wicked magic is at its most powerful and the common folk hide inside their homes and lock the doors behind them in the feeble hope that such mundane measures might protect them from the otherworldly."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And probably because it's cold outside," Ciri interrupts with a snicker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh?" Jaskier gapes in mock offence. "Do you want to tell the story then?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, please, continue," Ciri pleads. "I won't interrupt again!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Very well," Jaskier nods and starts anew. "So in this tale there was a wickedly evil sorceress with a heart of stone and a temper like a thunderstorm." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A loud bang interrupts the story. Jaskier’s and Ciri's heads both perk up to find Yennefer as the source of the noise. She's still sitting in the comfortable plush chair next to the fireplace, but the book she'd been reading now rests closed between her perfectly manicured fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Careful, bard," she threatens. "If I don't like how you describe me, I might turn you into a toad or something equally slimy." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why, my love, I haven't even mentioned the name of the sorceress yet!" Jaskier gasps. "But I am glad you recognize yourself by my description!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yennefer shoots him another sharp look before she opens her book again in clear indignation. Judging by the way her eyes are focused on one and the same spot on the page though, Jaskier has more than one listener to his little tale. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Where were we?" Jaskier mumbles as he turns back to Ciri. "Oh, yeah, the sorceress. Well, as I mentioned, she was evil and heartless, and - in her wickedness - she stole the heart of a brave and heroic knight in shining armor." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That had better not be me," Geralt grumbles and interrupts his work to shoot a sharp glare at Jaskier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A knight in shining armor," Jaskier continues, unimpressed. "Truly skilled with the sword and even more so with the knitting needle. What exactly are you crafting over there, darling?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Scarf for Ciri," Geralt mumbles, accompanied by Ciri's giggling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So the witch steals the knight's heart and, in order to earn it back, she sends him on a dangerous quest, knowing full well that the goal she set for him shall be impossible to complete," Jaskier muses and waves his hands around for emphasis. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh no!" Ciri gasps between more giggles. "What did she have him do? Fight a fearsome dragon? Save a cursed princess?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Pshh, na," Jaskier dismisses. "Nothing so mundane and simple. The witch sent him on the impossible task to find a birthday gift so thoughtful that it would melt the sorceress's heart." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I thought her heart was made of stone not ice. How can it melt?" Ciri points out. "And Yennefer's birthday is in summer!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh that's what you get for trying to indulge today's youth," Jaskier whines as he scrambles to his feet and heads towards the door. "No sense for artistic freedom!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What? No! Wait, Jaskier!" Ciri shouts in protest. "At least tell me what the gift was! Did it melt the evil sorceress's heart?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Look what you did, you useless troubadour!" Yennefer huffs. "Now Ciri calls me evil, too!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Yennefer," Ciri grins. "No sense for artistic freedom!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, maybe you've learned something from my lessons after all," Jaskier praises reluctantly, turning back towards the fire and leaning against the doorframe he had reached in his feint at a dramatic exit. "But decide for yourself if our fearless knight succeeded in his task: The gift he brought back to the evil sorceress was a bouquet of buttercups." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What, seriously?" Ciri gasps. "Geralt, those are weeds! You can't just gift weeds to a lady!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's what I told him!" Yennefer and Jaskier call out in unison. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck off," Geralt grumbles, hiding his face behind the half-finished knitwear in his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I take it Yennefer was not impressed?" Ciri giggles breathlessly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The mighty sorceress was indeed not swayed," Jaskier confirms, effortlessly slipping back into his narrator voice. "She cursed the noble warrior with a most terrible and deadly hex as punishment." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Deadly?" Geralt huffs accusingly. "You said the common cold was harmless! That it wasn't fatal!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She cursed him with the common cold?" Ciri repeats, her eyes glittering with admiration and mischief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well you sure acted like you were going to die," Jaskier laughs. "Wrote your will and everything. And I had to tend to you in that state. So really, the one punished was me!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm curious, though," Ciri grins. "What was your reasoning to get Yen buttercups, of all things?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It was the year Jaskier taught the summer semester at Oxenfurt as well," Geralt mumbles shyly, his words barely audible. "Yen hadn't seen him in a while and I knew she missed him. Thought the flowers would remind her of him." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Ciri huffs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's actually…" Jaskier gasps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck," Yennefer sighs. "That's kind of really sweet. Now I feel bad for cursing you. How dare you?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What a surprising twist in our story!" Jaskier marvels. "Who knew the socially awkward knight was a misunderstood romantic all along?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And thus the sorceress's heart was swayed after all!" Ciri adds. "A happy ending just like in the books!" </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>is this entire story only a justification why chapter 3 took place in summer when they're all supposed to be winter stories? Yes. Yes it is.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Baking Christmas cookies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"And why exactly do I have to help you with this?" Yennefer sighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Because," Ciri replies and points her index finger at Yennefer accusingly. "There's still no word from Jaskier on when he'll arrive at Kaer Morhen this year, Geralt has brought back a fresh vanilla plant yesterday, but he's still injured from that drowner contract and needs to rest, Lambert is forbidden from the kitchen after he got drunk with Aiden and they raided the pantry and Eskel says he can't bake," she lists off, adding another finger for each name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And I can?" Yennefer asks sceptically. "I've also never baked anything before."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, you mix some stuff and then heat it up," Ciri muses. "I'm sure it's not much different from alchemy!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, fine," Yennefer sighs. "If Jaskier can do it, how hard can it be?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Great!" Ciri beams. "I put all the ingredients over there. Now we just need to follow the instructions Jaskier wrote down for me. First up: Collect the vanilla from the vanilla plant. Hmm." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both stare at the flower in silence. Just like last time, Geralt had brought the entire plant with him, roots and all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, don’t expect me to know what he means, ugly one," Yennefer shrugs. "I have no idea what part he expects us to use. Now if you wanted me to make a poison, I'm your woman, but…" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, we'll answer that question later," Ciri decides. "Let's start with the flour instead. Can you measure the amount Jaskier wrote down?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sure," Yennefer shrugs, grabs the bag of flour and a large bowl off the kitchen counter and starts pouring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A moment later a cloud of white fog rises into the air and engulfs the sorceress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not. A. Word," Yennefer hisses once the dust has settled again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uhm," Ciri huffs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't you dare!" Yennefer threatens. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think you need to-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, I was supposed to pour it slowly. I can see that </span>
  <em>
    <span>now," </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yennefer snaps. "Thanks for the heads up!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Maybe we should get Eskel after all. It seems there's a ghost in the keep!" Ciri teases before she bursts out laughing at the sight of Yennefer covered in flour from the waist up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you done?" Yennefer sighs, though she can't keep a slight grin from creeping into her features, either. Ciri, meanwhile, is holding her belly and has to steady herself against the kitchen counter, she's laughing so hard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, you match Geralt now! Your hair is just as white!" she giggles once she's managed to catch her breath again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, does it suit me?" Yennefer asks and slowly turns around herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nah," Ciri decides. "You just don't pull the pale-as-death-look off as well as Geralt does." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Bummer," Yennefer shrugs and returns to measuring the flour. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, that's done," she declares eventually. "What's next?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri glances at the recipe. "We need some eggs, but only the yolk, apparently. I didn't know they made eggs like that?" She looks at Yennefer, uncertain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They don't," Yennefer states, happy that there's finally something she knows. "But you can separate it somehow. I only ever watched my mother do it, though, I was never allowed to help."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, the most powerful sorceress on the continent can handle anything!" Ciri cheers. "How hard can it be?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Encouraged by that, Yennefer grabs the first of the two eggs Ciri laid out and, just like she had watched her mother do all those years ago, cracks it against the edge of a fresh bowl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both women watch as the deep orange yolk washes over the rim of the cracked eggshell and mixes with the white in the bowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stare for a moment longer, but the yolk doesn't magically separate from the white. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Maybe the egg was faulty?" Ciri offers. "Try the other one!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yennefer does as instructed, though with the same result. Before she can even attempt to catch the yolk in one of the eggshells, it already mixes with the white. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Now what?" Yennefer asks, uncertain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Those were the only eggs left in the pantry," Ciri pouts. "If you want to try again, we'll have to go out into the barn and get some more." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Exasperated, Yennefer rubs the bridge of her nose. Her fingers come away dusted with flour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Many things can be said about me," she sighs. "But I'm not a quitter! Let's go!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside the chicken barn it's warm and cozy. The smell of hay, corn and the distinct scent of animals hangs in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nervous clucking and fluttering erupts as they step closer to the nesting boxes on either side of the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Where do you think they hide the eggs?" Ciri asks as she looks around with a puzzled look on her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Right here," Yennefer grins and pulls open one of the drawers underneath a particularly puffed up looking hen. At the centre sits a large, brown egg. Ciri's eyes go wide with wonder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She steps closer to one of the boxes as well and attempts to open it, though it's occupant has different ideas. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hen flutters its wings and jumps forward with an indignant cluck. Ciri yelps and scrambles backwards, tripping over her feet in the process. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Roused by the commotion, several more chickens decide to abandon their posts and flit around the room until the only thing visible is a whirlwind of feathers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ruckus settles again and Yennefer is presented with the picture of Ciri, sitting on the floor with a shocked expression, while one of the hens is perched on top of her head, making a mess of her ashen hair and clucking contently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do not move, ugly one!" Yennefer whispers, barely able to contain a giggle. "You have been chosen!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Chosen for what?" Ciri whimpers, though she does hold as still as possible. "Don't I have enough destinies to fulfill already?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Yennefer steps closer. The hen eyes her warily, but does allow the sorceress to pick her up and place her back in an empty nesting box. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There's still something in my hair!" Ciri whines. "Don't tell me it took a shit on my head!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, look!" Yennefer purrs as she reaches into Ciri's hair once more and produces another egg, white this time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well this one has to work!" Ciri declares. "It's the chosen egg! Let's go back in!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Third time's the charm!" Yennefer prompts once they've brought the two eggs back to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cracks the white egg on the edge of a bowl and indeed, the yolk remains inside one of the cracked halves of the shell, allowing her to carefully drip the egg white into the bowl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hooray for the egg of destiny!" Ciri cheers. "Unfortunately, we need two yolks. Do you think the other one will work as well?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"One way to find out!" Yennefer calls out and cracks the second egg, producing another firm and separable yolk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Those other eggs </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>faulty!" Ciri yells. "What fraudulent ploy is this?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, as long as we got it now," Yennefer soothes. "What's next?" she adds, excitement over her success getting the better of her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Now we just mix all the ingredients together," Ciri reads from the recipe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While they're busy kneading the dough, Vesemir joins them in the kitchen to start preparing dinner. He advises them on what to do with the vanilla plant, but strategically doesn't ask why there's a ghost and a scarecrow baking cookies in his home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cookies turn out delicious. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. An unusual snowman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This is bad. Very bad. They should never have stopped in this goddamn village. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they arrived, it was the middle of the night and - with everyone and their grandmother trying to sell Ciri out to Nilfgaard - they decided to get a room at the inn and smuggle the princess in through the back door unseen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which turned out to be a mistake. Because that way no one could tell them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next morning they woke up and Ciri had vanished without a trace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they asked around the village they soon found out that she hadn't been the first child to disappear. A few weeks ago children suddenly started disappearing overnight. No one had seen where they had gone to; no amount of locked doors and safety measures could keep them from being taken. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier paces up and down in their room, uncertain what to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's been three days since Geralt set out to find the missing kids, since Geralt ordered him to stay here in case Ciri comes back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Geralt took off, he only said he'd be back 'soon', unspecific and unhelpful as ever. Surely three days were no longer encompassed by the term 'soon'. Something must have gone wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the more time passes, the less likely it becomes that Ciri and the other children will return unharmed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier stops in his tracks and gives a short, determined nod. There's only one thing to do. He has to go after them as well! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While the children have disappeared without leaving any kind of clue to mortal humans, Geralt must have found some sort of trace, because once Jaskier reaches the edge of the village he can see a clear and straight trail of Geralt's footprints leading into the nearby woods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Dark, gloomy forest. Always a good sign!" Jaskier tries to encourage himself and sets out to get his little family back from the clutches of whatever monster stole them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tracks lead deep into the forest. While at first there are some felled trees, bird houses or the occasional discarded apple core, eventually the signs of nearby civilization become rarer and then disappear altogether. And still Geralt's tracks lead further. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier soon falls into a sort of trance, placing one step in front of the other and with his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He almost doesn't notice when Geralt's trail ends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier blinks and Geralt's heavy boot prints are gone, replaced by a variety of far smaller imprints, that criss-cross all over the place. Surprised, he looks up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first thing he registers is a small, crooked hut several feet away. The way it's decorated with pieces of candy and pastry (most of it clearly chewed on) practically screams evil magic trap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In front of the hut stands Geralt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Actually, no, at more than a glance it turns out it's not Geralt. It has Geralt's pauldrons and it holds Geralt's swords but other than that, it's a snowman. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dread spreads in Jaskier’s guts and he quickly jogs around the figure to get a closer look. On the other side, yellow eyes and furrowed eyebrows glare back at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Except the yellow eyes are slices of carrots and the eyebrows are made of twigs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh Geralt! What did they do to you?" Jaskier gasps. His knees suddenly feel very weak and he begins to think that following Geralt all by himself might not have been the smartest idea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The child of legend, whisked away right from under the nose of a Witcher, said Witcher turned into a snowman and only a humble bard left to save the day. What chance does he stand? What was he thinking? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then again, maybe there's something he can do. It always works in the old stories told to children and the weird hut with its candy decor definitely gives off the same kind of vibe as those tales. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Here goes nothing," Jaskier mumbles and places his lips on the snowman's mouth. Or, well, on the coals arranged in a frown on the snowman's face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he waits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a minute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For ten. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing happens. Seems true love's kiss only works in the stories, after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which begs the question of what he's supposed to do now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What chance does he stand where even a Witcher failed? And yet, what choice does he have? Whoever did this has taken his daughter, his family. He can't exactly just walk away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd never be able to look Yennefer in the eyes again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hell, he'd never be able to look himself in the eyes again. And he so loves mirrors! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Jaskier reaches forward and grabs the steel sword from where it's sticking out of the large ball that makes up the snowman's torso. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his fingers close around the grip of the sword his hand brushes against the snow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And like a - well, like a snowman left in the sun for too long - it crumbles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, no, no!" Jaskier screams. "Stop! Don't do that! Please!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before his eyes, the snowman that is his lover falls apart. He can only watch helplessly as the fractured part falls in on itself and slips off the bottom part. The head rolls to the side in an almost human-looking manner, until it falls to the ground as well. Before his eyes, Geralt turns into nothing but a pile of snow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fact that his kiss didn't work he could live with but this? Even if there was a way to undo the spell that turned Geralt into a child's plaything, there's no coming back from this. Geralt is gone, his body destroyed. Jaskier’s best friend, the love of his life, has died. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm so sorry, Geralt," Jaskier whispers as he sinks to his knees. A dislodged slice of carrot glares at him accusingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier absentmindedly places the sword he acquired at such a high cost on the ground beside him and wraps his arms around himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I shall write you the most glorious ballad ever written," he mumbles. "The whole Continent will know of your bravery." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words sound hollow, even to his own ears. A song won't bring Geralt back. What he really wants to do is curl up on the snow-covered ground and never get up again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he can't do that. There's still Ciri. And he will get his daughter back, if it's the last thing he does. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Jaskier slowly gets up, grabs the sword again and turns towards the hut. The fear that had settled into his bones earlier at the idea that even Geralt couldn't best this sorcerer is gone. Now there's only fury and rage burning inside of him. This villainous toad-spotted miscreant of a mage has taken his family from him. They're going to pay! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opens the door and steps inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hut is bigger on the inside. Of course it is. Jaskier doesn't know why he expected anything different. The foyer itself is wide enough that the hut's exterior would fit into it twice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He also shouldn't be so surprised that the inside of the hut is entirely made of ice. Everything from the floor to the windowless walls to the twin set of stairs leading up to a second floor, which the hut definitely wasn't high enough for, looking at it from the outside. The mage is really going heavy on the whole fairy-tale villain aesthetic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Flickering candlelight from the huge chandelier overhead reflects off of every surface and makes the whole room seem to move and shift constantly. Jaskier starts feeling nauseous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's hard to tell how many doors there are and which ones are only reflections, so he simply walks towards the large double door underneath the stairwells and heads through it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike what he expected, the ice isn't cold to the touch and feels more like normal wood under his fingers. Maybe the ice is just an illusion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room he finds himself in next is an even larger hall, equally made of ice and very clearly once intended as a ballroom. Various sconces illuminate an intricate pattern carved into the wide floor, while once colorful paintings of fancily dressed dancers on the walls are glossed over with the ever-present ice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, the room seems to serve a different purpose though. The floor is littered with various toys, dolls and plush animals. Chalk drawings cover not only several stacks of paper, but also the long banquet table at the far end of the room. It appears Jaskier is getting closer to the mystery of the missing children. They must have been playing here recently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While Jaskier looks around and tries to find any proof that Ciri was here as well, a side door opens and a curious voice asks "Hello?" His presence has been noticed, then. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turns around slowly, sword at the ready. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the door stands Ciri. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier!" she yells, relief and happiness swinging in her voice. Then she takes off running in his direction, followed by a group of other children. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri throws herself into his arms and clings to him like a curious kid's tongue to an icicle. Not that Jaskier has any experience with that particular situation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I tried to get back to you but every time I tried to run away I always just ended up in front of the hut again," she whimpers. "It's enchanted or something!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well isn't that just adorable," comes a sneering voice from the other end of the room, where an elegantly dressed woman has appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her flawless skin and almost unnaturally symmetrical face mark her as a mage from Aretuza. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier wraps his free hand around Ciri and pushes her behind him, while eyeing the sorceress warily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri pays him little mind and steps back to his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Look, Gretel, you got it all wrong!" she tells the woman. "Parents do care about their children. This proves it." </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nonsense!" the sorceress huffs. "My parents abandoned me as soon as money got a little tight. If Aretuza hadn't taken me in, I would have ended up just like my brother and died a horrible death at the hands of the awful witch that built this house!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Then why is Jaskier here, risking his life to get me back?" Ciri counters "And Geralt, too?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That proves nothing!" the mage all but shrieks. "The Witcher came to do his job. He came for the money he was promised. And this one? I bet he doesn't even know you well enough to keep you apart from the other children!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that she raises her hands menacingly and suddenly, instead of Ciri and a dozen or so other kids, Jaskier is surrounded by several perfect copies of the Cintran princess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's his worst nightmare. As if one Child Surprise wasn't already more than enough to handle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Ciris stare at each other in surprise for a moment, before one of them breaks the silence by yelling "I'm the real one!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A split-second later Jaskier is surrounded by the gaggle of Ciris, yelling and giggling and trying to convince him that they're the right Ciri. It all seems to be a funny game to them. Jaskier’s head starts to spin from trying to get a good look at even one of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stop!" he screams at the top of his lungs. "How am I supposed to pick someone if you keep running around me?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The children come to a halt and arrange themselves in a loose circle around him, quiet except for the occasional giggle still breaking through. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, only one of them rolls her eyes at Jaskier’s demanding tone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier places his hand on top of the real Ciri's head and glares at the sorceress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"See? I told you he couldn't do it! Parents are useless!" she gloats and waves her hand dismissively. The Ciris turn back into the children they were before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only the one Jaskier chose remains the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Impossible!" Gretel shouts as the smug grin falls from her face. "But that doesn't prove anything! We need another test! How about-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With few short strides Jaskier crosses the room, grabs the sorceress by the front of her dress and shoves her against the wall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Enough," he presses out between clenched teeth as he places the sword across her bare throat. "I am done with your games! Undo the spell that keeps the children trapped!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Cute," the witch muses without any sign of fear or worry. "But you do know that I can turn you into a pile of dust with a snap of my fingers, right?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do I look like I give a damn?" Jaskier growls. "You took my daughter away from me! I don't care what you do to me, I will tear you to pieces if you don't let her go!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm," she replies solemnly. "Interesting. Perhaps I was mistaken in my judgment. There do seem to be some parents who love and protect their children." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Jaskier can further comment on that, the witch is gone. Vanished into thin air, just like how she appeared. He stares at his empty hand in surprise, where he had clutched the fabric of her dress a moment ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There goes his chance to avenge Geralt. The fury that was gnawing at his guts starts to settle. Jaskier holds onto it desperately. He knows that once the anger is gone, only grief will remain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At least Ciri is unharmed. Jaskier turns around slowly and faces the group of children, who stare back at him expectantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She wasn't malicious, you know?" Ciri explains. "Just misguided and lonely. Although she did curse Geralt with a spell that turned him into an inanimate object." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know," Jaskier whispers, barely audible with the lump that has formed in his throat. How can he possibly tell Ciri what happened to Geralt? That her guardian is gone and won't come back? She's lost so many people already in her short life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He's in the room over there," Ciri adds chipperly and takes off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"... wait, what?" Jaskier stutters as he scrambles after her, followed by the rest of the children who chatter with one another excitedly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri leads him to an adjacent room. It's not nearly as big as the ballroom, but still large enough that it couldn't possibly fit into the little hut he saw from the outside. An enormous feather bed occupies most of the opposite wall, big enough for at least three or four grown people to sleep on, or a dozen or so kidnapped children. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the room is taken up by various shelf boards mounted to the walls, filled with dozens upon dozens of porcelain dolls. Their empty eyes seem to stare at him as Ciri leads him further into the room </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Over there," Ciri declares and points at one particular doll. It doesn't look much different from the other ones, safe for its face. Its mouth is sculpted in the shape of a frown instead of the cheerful smiles of the other ones and its yellow eyes, despite being made of lifeless glass beads, seem to glare back at Jaskier angrily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's… That's Geralt?" Jaskier asks carefully, not quite ready to allow himself to hope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course," Ciri chides. "Who else would it be? Look at the face! I tried to sneak around Gretel's laboratory and look for a way to turn him back, but I couldn't find anything."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We had lots of fun playing with him while Ciri was away!" a little boy announces happily. Some other children giggle affirmatively. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Anyway," Ciri sighs as she gently pats the boy's head and ruffles his hair. She seems to be the oldest kid around. The others appear to be looking up to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sure if you just kiss him that'll break the spell!" Ciri continues. "And then we can finally get out of here and return these little monsters to their parents." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So uhm…," Jaskier mumbles. "Entirely unrelated, totally random and unimportant question, but, uh, what's with that snowman outside the door?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The children built it earlier today," Ciri shrugs. "I told them not to use Geralt's armor, that he'd want it back once he gets uncursed, but I don't think they listened. Why are you asking?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No reason!" Jaskier huffs and quickly grabs the doll before Ciri can notice how he's turning bright red. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She narrows her eyes at him, but he turns his back to her and presses a kiss to the doll's…well, face. It's not exactly big enough for more precision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bright light emits from it and Jaskier has to close his eyes firmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, his hands are no longer holding on to the doll but instead are wrapped around a very firm and familiar waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light slowly dims and flickers out. Jaskier opens his eyes carefully. In front of him stands Geralt of Rivia, unharmed and scowling even more than usual. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes, my fair lady," Jaskier teases. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?" Geralt grumbles and looks down at himself, taking in the bright pink dress made up of an abundance of ruffles, as well as the intricately woven braid that rests on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The fuck?" he concludes. "When the witch cursed me my clothes stayed the same size. Why did the dress grow with me then?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, there </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>children around," Ciri huffs with an annoyed click of her tongue. "Now can we finally get out of here?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I need some pants," Geralt growls. "This is far too impractical. I can't fight the witch like that." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, the witch is gone," Jaskier shrugs. "And I don't think she'll be coming back." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Then what about the enchantment that kept the kids trapped here?" Geralt huffs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lifted," Ciri explains. "At least she said she would." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Geralt remarks. "Any… other monsters in the area? Some rabid dogs? Anything else?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, dear," Jaskier answers. "I think all the work is already taken care of. You can relax for once." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Riiiight," Geralt mumbles slowly. Then he nods to himself. "Then I guess I'll just keep wearing this for now." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Absolutely, love!" Jaskier encourages. "It suits you tremendously." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Gross," Ciri comments as Jaskier leans in for a proper kiss with his rescued lover. "Now can we please get out of here, already?" </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Finding a present for that person that is impossible to find a present for</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It's going to be Jaskier’s second time visiting Kaer Morhen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two years ago, Geralt had asked him only a few days before they were scheduled to separate for the winter. It had all been rather sudden and the whole season had passed in a blur of anxiety and excitement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn't even met the whole family then, Geralt's little brother Lambert hadn't made it to the keep that year. Then, the year after, Jaskier got delayed by his family until he couldn't make it to the keep anymore; the path had already snowed over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This year though - this year Jaskier is determined to make the most of his time at Kaer Morhen and charm his way into the hearts of Geralt's family until they can't imagine winter without him anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Step one is to make a good first impression after the Wolves haven't seen him in so long. And the easiest way to do that is to get the perfect welcome gift for everyone scheduled to be there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He comes across the first gift mere weeks after the snow of the previous winter has melted. After the tedious experience with his parents he decides to spend some time in Oxenfurt to recuperate.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>In his favorite dingy little bookstore he finds the perfect present for Eskel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, yes, a steamy romance novel might not necessarily be the best way to prove himself to his lover's family, but the cover of the book shows your usual handsome warrior with very revealing clothing clutching a swooning damsel in distress in his overly muscular arms. Except this protagonist is drawn with an enormous scar covering the left side of his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's extremely handsome. So is Eskel, of course, but whenever Jaskier tells him as much he just dismisses the compliment. With this book though, Eskel will have to believe him that scars are seen as attractive by quite a number of people. Why else would they draw the cover like this? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His second gift he also finds in a bookstore, though this place couldn't possibly be more different than where he found the book for Eskel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The "Ye Olde Books" in Toussaint sells only the most esteemed antiquities to rich noblemen who never intend to read them and only display them to prove their supposedly good taste and to exaggerate their riches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier quickly determines the oldest book the store has on offer. It's still younger than the recipient of the gift, of course, but the fairy tale stories it holds should still be similar enough to the stories that must have been popular when Vesemir was a child. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After the events of the last winter Jaskier at least managed to guilt trip his parents enough that he has no trouble paying for the delicate tome. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As for Lambert, Jaskier didn't meet him the one year he spent at Kaer Morhen, but he and Geralt ran into the younger Witcher on the Path once. It was a brief encounter and Lambert didn't seem to particularly like Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt reassured him afterwards that it's nothing personal and that Lambert doesn't like anyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even though they couldn't possibly be more different, Lambert somewhat reminded Jaskier of himself. Jaskier is happy with his place in the world now, but he had to carve it out for himself, which hadn't always been easy. He remembers a time when he, too, felt trapped in the life he was born into, never good enough to satisfy his parents or to become a person in his own right, not just the heir to a legacy he wanted nothing to do with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the bitterness Lambert carries around with him feels very familiar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His third gift, therefore, is just as expensive as Vesemir's and on top of that requires a large amount of convincing to work out. Luckily, Jaskier has practice annoying someone enough until they agree to anything. He spent most of his life perfecting the skill with the involuntary help of his lover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time winter comes around again, the specially commissioned Gwent card will have started distribution. Though of course Jaskier will carry a copy of the new Lambert hero card with him as well and present it to Geralt's younger brother. He's made sure it would be stronger than the White Wolf card that became popular in recent years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri's gift is easy enough. Jaskier simply buys the biggest, fluffiest teddy bear he can find. Ciri is going to roll her eyes at him and claim that she isn't a kid anymore, but that's exactly what makes it the perfect present. With all that destiny business, the kid forgets far too often to allow herself to be a child sometimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How to get this monstrous thing, which is nearly as tall as Jaskier, back to Kaer Morhen is an entirely different story, though… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gift for Yennefer isn't hard to find either once he meets up with Geralt and travels with him again. In a run-down little general store in a village in the middle of nowhere, in the furthest corner of the shop, hidden under a fishing net and a set of gardening tools, lies the most atrocious knitted sweater Jaskier has ever seen. There's no reason to abandon old traditions, even if he and Yennefer don’t meet up at Oxenfurt anymore. And in case Yennefer doesn't attend Kaer Morhen this winter, he'll simply keep it around until the next time they meet. The knitwear is so incredibly ugly, it would be a shame to waste it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt informs him one day that Lambert will bring a plus one. Not a boyfriend or close friend or anything, just a superficial acquaintance. The fact that Lambert risked his own hide to save the man's life is - apparently - entirely coincidental and without meaning. It's just that this other Witcher of the Cat school has no other place to spend the winter. Nothing more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt calls his little brother an emotionally constipated idiot and Jaskier can't help but burst out laughing at the hypocrisy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier isn't sure whether to get this Aiden a gift as well since he never met the man, but as so often in his life, fate takes matters into its own hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's perusing his favorite clothes store in Vizima when he finds the most beautiful scarf. It's big and woolen and perfectly flashy. Every handspan or so the pattern and colours change completely. All in all it shows every colour of the rainbow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That is not the gift for Aiden, of course. But it's going to look great on Jaskier, especially since Geralt still insists he wears that old grey winter cloak. Granted, the cloak is warm, but oh so boring looking. The scarf will be just the right accessory to add a bit of color to his winter wardrobe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gift for Aiden he comes across as he leaves the store. A little boy, who must be the owner's son, sits at the side of the road and busies himself with thread and needle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curious, Jaskier steps closer and finds that the boy is attaching pieces of felt to a simple hairband. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the kid is done he puts the headband on and the felt pieces stand up in such a way that it appears like the boy has kitten ears growing out of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier considers for a moment but then decides that if this Aiden is voluntarily hanging out with Lambert, he must have a good sense of humor. He buys the headband off the boy and heads back to his and Geralt's inn room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it's because he's traveling with Geralt and can't really go looking for a gift for the White Wolf, but by the time their departure for Kaer Morhen rolls around, Jaskier has a little something for everyone, except Geralt. He doesn't even have an idea what he could gift to the man. Anything practical like a new whetstone, better armor or a fancy dagger is something that Geralt is far better equipped to pick out himself. Jaskier has little knowledge about such things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And while Jaskier has spent the last twenty years of his life convincing the big oaf that he deserves pretty things every once in a while, too, Jaskier can't think of anything that wouldn't just be in the way when they eventually set out on the Path again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The end of autumn creeps closer and closer and Jaskier’s head stubbornly remains empty. It shouldn't be this hard to think of something that Geralt would enjoy. After all, Jaskier has known him for over two decades now. But it seems like everything he could get his favorite Witcher he has already gotten him at some point during their travels. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He still has no idea when they pass the last village on the way to the Witchers’ keep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or when they start making their way up the mountain path. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe there's a pretty rock he can pick up? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What? No, that's a dumb idea. He's not just gonna pick up a random rock just because he's desperate. At this point he'll just have to accept the fact that he has no gift for Geralt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They reach the keep after two days of tedious climbing - not something Jaskier missed from his last visit - and are greeted at the gates by the other Witchers. Geralt's family members each welcome Geralt with a short hug and a pat on the back, while another man, who must be Lambert's tagalong, awkwardly stands to the side. Vesemir and Eskel nod at Jaskier courtly, Lambert only grunts at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier makes eye contact with Aiden who rolls his eyes at him apologetically over Lambert's behaviour. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Geralt brings Roach to the stables and they all quickly make their way inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the large dining hall they meet Yennefer and Ciri. Apparently they only came here a day earlier via portal, making Jaskier and Geralt the last to arrive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I have welcoming gifts!" Jaskier addresses everyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel reacts to his present with eyes narrowed in confusion. Then they grow wide with realisation and wonder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert scoffs when Jaskier hands him his parcel. He doesn't scoff again after he unpacks it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aiden grins at him widely and immediately puts his gift on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vesemir simply hums appreciatively. It reminds Jaskier far too much of Geralt. He supposes the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri, as expected, reacts with a pout and the declaration that she's not a child anymore. Still, she clutches the plushy to her chest and refuses to let it go when Aiden says he'll take it if she doesn't like it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yennefer snarls at her sweater and quickly turns away from the group to hide it, but just like Ciri does with the teddy bear, she clutches it to her chest protectively. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which only leaves Geralt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I, uh…, " Jaskier stutters and stares at his empty hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm," Geralt hums. "Saving the best for last?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grabs Jaskier by the shoulder, turns him around so that he's facing the room. He hugs Jaskier from behind and places his chin on Jaskier’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Seems like you got me the best gift of all," Geralt hums. "Look!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Confused, Jaskier glances about the room. Vesemir and Eskel are sitting in a corner, flipping through their respective books. Lambert is chasing Aiden through the room, who has stolen his Gwent card and is waving it around tauntingly. Ciri holds the teddy out to Yennefer, who's holding her sweater to the bear's chest to see if it would fit him. There's nothing out of the ordinary that Jaskier can spot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't under-" he begins. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Everyone's here," Geralt explains. "My whole family in one place for the very first time. I couldn't possibly ask for more." </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The smell of Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>now with the right text instead of yesterday's. whoops...sorry!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If you pay close attention you can smell the first snow of the year coming, even before it falls. A few days prior the air turns crisp and clean and it feels like you can breathe properly for the first time in forever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This year Geralt hadn't paid attention. When it started snowing heavily a full month earlier than usual, he was just as surprised as the farmers who had hired him to take out a nest of neckers on their field. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As a Witcher he should have noticed though. He should have headed towards Kaer Morhen in time. Instead, he only manages to reach the foot of the Kaedweni Mountains when the path to the Witchers’ keep is already snowed over and unpassable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck," he curses. This shouldn't have happened. Why had he been so distracted?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he'll have to find some other place to winter. A nearby inn, maybe. That costs money, though. Money he doesn't have. At least not enough to last him the whole season. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Good thing they agreed Yennefer would drop Ciri off at Kaer Morhen this year. He'd hate to have the girl stuck here with him all winter, away from their home and family. It's better he's the only one who has to suffer the solitude his mindlessness brought him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then again, his brothers aren't the only family he has anymore. There's no telling where Yennefer intends to cause mischief this year, but Jaskier once told Geralt he'd always be welcome to stay with him at Oxenfurt. It might have just been politeness, but at the very least Geralt could stop by and stay for a day or two while he figures out his next move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he makes it to Oxenfurt, the streets are already covered in snow, despite the far more temperate climate away from the mountains. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Entering the town is like a punch to the gut. It's everything at once and far too much of that. Weird magical lights blink at him from a myriad of market booths and cause his vision to swim. Everywhere there's people cheering, singing or yelling at each other and he feels like his ears will start bleeding soon. A cacophony of smells hits his nose. Various spices fill the air and make his eyes water. Everywhere it smells of alcohol, unwashed bodies and vomit. The entire town turned into a bloody madhouse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt stays close to Roach to block out at least some of the assault on his senses and quickly makes his way towards the academy grounds. Hopefully things will be calmer at the esteemed institution.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nearly every corner he passes his instincts go into overdrive and tell him there's a threat, but it's always just those stupid snowmen that seem to be everywhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time he reaches the gates to Oxenfurt Academy Geralt is about ready to just lay down on the snow and curl up on himself for an hour or two. But then Roach snorts impatiently and he forces himself to get her to the stables and organise a delicious slice of apple for her troubles. Roach hates big cities almost as much as he does. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Geralt makes his way to the entrance of the main building. Just outside the large door it occurs to him that he has never visited Jaskier here. After winter they always met up somewhere halfway between Oxenfurt and Kaer Morhen. And those few times a contract took them into the city there was never enough of a problem that warranted staying the night at Jaskier’s quarters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt pushes the heavy portal open and squeezes inside, accompanied by a flurry of snowflakes. The door falls closed again with a heavy thud and blessed silence falls over him. The inside of Oxenfurt Academy appears abandoned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt lets himself sink against the door for a moment and takes a deep, relieved breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wave of longing and desire washes over him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Confused at his body's strange reaction, Geralt looks around, but the entry hall remains empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes another deep breath and notices the smell. Lye soap scented with lavender and chamomile which must be used to scrub and polish the marble floor. It's the same soap Jaskier likes to use. It's only been a few weeks since they separated, but Geralt already misses the bard terribly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has no idea which of the countless corridors branching off from the foyer will get him closer to his lover, so he strains his ears and follows the distant murmur of voices coming from one of the hallways. There must be someone around who can point him in the right direction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he moves down the corridor and passes the occasional open door, he expects to get anxious. It's never a good idea for a Witcher to sneak around a place uninvited. Far too often they are met with suspicion and hostility. But instead, a sense of calm overcomes him. The same feeling he experiences when he returns to their camp or inn room after a hunt and the concern on Jaskier’s face is replaced by relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt takes another deep breath and realizes that he is surrounded by the smell of old parchment, candle wax and leather book bindings. A scent that seems to cling to Jaskier’s skin at any given time, even after they spent weeks tracking through the wilderness. The whole academy seems to smell like Jaskier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finds a group of young students who point him in the direction of Jaskier’s rooms once he confirms that he is indeed the White Wolf from professor Pankratz's songs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Looks like the professor has been very good this year," one of them whispers once they think he's out of earshot. They snicker as he makes his way in the direction they pointed out. Geralt will never understand teenagers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He passes by the kitchen next. He can smell fresh bread rolls baking in the oven. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hint of thyme hangs in the air, only noticeable because he knows it'll be there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There have been plenty of occasions where he and Jaskier found themselves stranded in a town with no money or out in the wilderness with a strand of bad luck and no wildlife or other food to be found. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In such circumstances Jaskier would always, without fail, produce a handful of bread rolls from the bottom of his pack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They're always squished and stale, of course, but it has been a long time since Geralt went hungry on the Path. And Jaskier’s bread rolls are always flavored with just a hint of thyme. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt allows himself a fond smile at the countless shared memories the smell brings up, before he heads on towards his lover's room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s scent, his presence, engulfs him with every step he takes and Geralt wonders how he ever managed to spend the winter apart. He misses his lovers dearly, both of them. Maybe his tardiness isn't such a bad thing after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finally finds the dorms labeled "Pankratz, office hours Mon-Fri 10am-12am, Nov-Feb only" and knocks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's some commotion inside and it takes a while until the door gingerly opens. Clearly, Jaskier didn't expect any visitors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even before the opening gets wide enough for him to see Jaskier, Geralt's favorite smell rises into his nose. The scent of the University mixes with something the corridors still lacked. Something uniquely Jaskier, that can't be described. And there's something else, too. An underlying note that brings the whole mixture to perfection, making him truly feel like he arrived where he belongs. A hint of lilac and gooseberries. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yen, what are you doing here?" Geralt asks, baffled, once the door swings fully open. "And what the hell are you two wearing?" </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Holding out in a snowstorm together/Getting snowed in together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's Lambert and Aiden time!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> What a prick </em>, Lambert thinks as he urges his horse to go faster. </p><p> </p><p>He has to hurry if he still wants to make it to Kaer Morhen before the mountain pass snows over. </p><p> </p><p>Who the fuck takes on a contract this close to the beginning of winter? You're supposed to find a safe place to hibernate, just like the monsters do. What point is there in tracking into the mountains and slaying a beast, that won't do anything but sleep for the next three months anyway? It'll still be there in spring, so why bother with it now? </p><p> </p><p>"It's good coin, Lambert," he can hear Aiden's voice echo in his head. </p><p>What a moron. It's not his problem if Aiden wants to be stranded for the winter. Just because they did a few jobs together in the past couple of months Lambert doesn't owe him anything. </p><p> </p><p>Soon enough he's going to enjoy the hot springs and the crazy Cat can lie dead in a ditch for all he cares. </p><p> </p><p>It's not like Aiden had asked him to stay. Instead he'd given Lambert a choice; stay to help with the contract or head to Kaer Morhen. And Lambert had chosen the sensible option, thank you very much. </p><p> </p><p>Aiden had only shrugged and let him get on his way. </p><p> </p><p>That's the worst part of it. </p><p> </p><p>Why had he just accepted it? Why hadn't he asked Lambert to stay?</p><p> </p><p>What an asshole. Lambert doesn't need him. </p><p> </p><p>Only when his horse whinnies in protest, does he realise that he's spurred her on to a gallop. He sighs and allows her to slow down and pick the pace herself. No point in taking his sour mood out on her, when Aiden is the target of his ire. </p><p> </p><p>He looks up to the sky to determine how much time he still has to make it to the place he can't quite call his home. And freezes. He’d been too busy being stuck in his own head and hadn’t noticed the weather changing. The wind has picked up and so has the soft snowfall, to the point that Lambert can’t actually see the sky anymore. If this keeps up, he’ll have a full blown blizzard on his hands soon.</p><p> </p><p>There’s still enough time for Lambert to make it to the next town and find shelter. Aiden on the other hand is trailing the monster on the far side of the mountain range and won't even notice the storm until it's immediately upon him. </p><p> </p><p>But that's not his problem. Aiden hadn’t cared when Lambert left. Why should he care about Aiden's fate, then? </p><p> </p><p>"Fucking bastard," Lambert mumbles under his breath and turns his horse around. </p><p> </p><p>He still remembers what the Alderman said about the creature. It's not like he had paid attention or anything, but he was in the same room when Aiden had taken the contract. From the description it sounds a lot like a Yeti. Which means it must have a lair somewhere up in the mountains, a natural cave or cavern probably. </p><p> </p><p>The track up is risky and treacherous, Lambert remembers as much from when he hunted here in the height of summer. With the snow, it's going to be even worse, so he decides to leave his horse at the local inn's stables. It'll only hinder him in his search for the crazy Cat. </p><p>Then he heads up the steep mountain path. </p><p> </p><p>The bad news is, the storm hits before he can find Aiden. </p><p> </p><p>The good news don't exist. Just like with every other goddamn thing in his life. </p><p> </p><p>Everything around him is white. He can barely see his own hand when he holds it in front of his face. The wind pulls on his clothes and pushes against him. More than once does he stumble over a loose rock and nearly falls down the steep cliff going down right next to the narrow path. </p><p>There's no fucking way he'll be able to find anyone in these conditions. He might very well walk right past Aiden without seeing him. </p><p> </p><p>The smart thing to do would be to turn around and save his own hide. Aiden's a lost cause and it's his own fucking fault, anyway. </p><p> </p><p>Lambert presses on. </p><p> </p><p>The cold seems to seep into his bones and every step forward becomes a conscious effort. </p><p> </p><p>"Aiden!" he screams, but the wind tears the words from his lips and drowns them in the howling of the storm. </p><p> </p><p>Just one step in front of the other. Just a little further. Just a little bit more before he'll give up and turn back around. Just one more step. </p><p> </p><p>He barely notices when the path becomes wider. Nothing changes, except that he isn't in constant danger of falling over the edge anymore, even though the wind has become stronger still, and he barely manages to walk in a straight line. </p><p>He almost doesn’t notice the flash of light somewhere diagonally in front of him, like a flash of fire that flares up and immediately extinguishes again. He thinks it's just a trick of his mind, at first. </p><p> </p><p>Then a large, looming shadow appears, seemingly out of nowhere, nothing but a dark outline against the contrast of the white snow swirling around him. </p><p> </p><p>Before Lambert's frozen brain can process that information, let alone attack, the shadow raises a giant paw and swipes down on something right in front of it. Lambert draws his sword and charges. </p><p> </p><p>Hidden by the storm he almost doesn't see the creature's other paw coming down on him. He throws himself into the snow at the last moment, rolls over the icy ground and comes back up standing in front of the creature's broad chest. </p><p> </p><p>Slowly, he looks up at the face hovering above him. This close he can make out more details than just a vague outline. Small beady eyes glare down at him. </p><p>The creature draws the blackened flesh of its lip back into a snarl, revealing a giant maw full of razor sharp teeth. Foul, rotten breath washes over Lambert despite the storm's best efforts. </p><p>One of the horns protruding from the thing's ugly visage is broken off at the base, but the other still looks sturdy and, judging by the discoloration of dried blood at the top half it, pointy enough to gore right through a person. </p><p> </p><p>He takes a swipe at the creature's chest but his sword barely scrapes through the thick fur that covers its body. </p><p>Black goo flows out of the shallow wound and closes it up immediately. </p><p>Several more clumps of black ichor are matted into the thing's yellowed fur here and there and as the creature raises its thick paw once again, Lambert can see a severely cinched area on its elbow. </p><p> </p><p>Aiden has gotten a few hits in, then. It must've been him, who else would have created the Igni sign Lambert saw flaring up earlier? </p><p> </p><p>So where is the bastard? </p><p>Lambert purposefully doesn't think too much about the bright red color that’s covering the dagger-like claws of the monster and dyeing its fur a crimson hue. </p><p> </p><p>He dodges again and hacks at the burnt elbow, but other than making the creature angry, it doesn't seem to have much of an effect. </p><p> </p><p>He'll have to find a weak spot on that damn thing, and fast. He can already feel his limbs growing heavy with the cold.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, ugly!" he taunts, but the wind tears his words away once again. He can only hear the raging of the storm around him. Or maybe that's just the sound of his pounding heartbeat. </p><p> </p><p>He'll have to attack somewhere that isn't covered in fur, which means he'll have to get up close and personal with the bastard. </p><p> </p><p>Lambert draws a sigil into the snow with the tip of his sword. This time when the creature paws at him, he doesn't roll out the way, simply jumps backwards a bit. The claws get caught in his Yrden sign and the creature furiously tries to pull free. </p><p> </p><p>Lambert can feel his magic weaken already from the sheer force of the monster, but it should hold long enough for his purposes. He jumps on top of the creature's wrist and runs up the arm as fast as he can while dodging below a swipe from the other claw. </p><p> </p><p>As he reaches the shoulder, the monster swats at him like he's a bothersome mosquito. Lambert jumps before he can be flattened under the giant limb. </p><p>He grabs onto the first thing that comes into reach and a moment later he's dangling from the intact horn. </p><p> </p><p>Not quite according to plan. And he lost his sword in an effort not to fall to his death. But he can work with this. He's been in worse situations. </p><p> </p><p>The creature opens its maw in an angry roar and throws its head to the side to shake Lambert off. </p><p> </p><p>Perfect. As he loses his grip on the horn, Lambert forms both his hands into the sign for Igni and aims at the exposed inside of the creature's throat. </p><p> </p><p>There's no time to check if he hit his mark. His next sign, Quen, flickers to life a split-second before he hits the ground hard. </p><p> </p><p>His groan as he scrambles to his feet is swallowed by the raging storm. As are his calls for Aiden. Where is the fucking Cat? The only thing he can see is the giant heap of monster fur a few feet away. It's not moving. At least that. </p><p> </p><p>Lambert stumbles to what he thinks is the spot where he saw the monster attacking Aiden earlier. He drops to his knees and frantically rifles through the snow. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, his hand brushes against something solid. He pushes more snow aside until Aiden's face comes into view. Thick snowflakes hang on his lashes and his lips have taken on a blue tint, but his chest still rises in irregular intervals. </p><p> </p><p>Aiden doesn't react when Lambert shakes him. The snow underneath him is soaked red, but with the snow constantly blowing into his face Lambert can't make out where Aiden is wounded. They'll have to find shelter. </p><p> </p><p>He drapes Aiden's arm over his shoulder and grabs him around the waist. Aiden hangs by his side like a sack of potatoes, still not stirring in the slightest. </p><p> </p><p>Lambert looks around and realizes that he has no idea anymore which way he came from. Everywhere around him is the same unforgiving white. </p><p> </p><p>He picks a direction at random and drags Aiden along with him. With his luck he'll most likely just fall over the edge of the mountain path and kill them both, but staying put isn't an option either. </p><p> </p><p>Just one step after the other. Just keep pushing forward. </p><p>His grip on Aiden becomes slippery after a while. He rearranges the weight and tries not to think about how much blood he must have already lost. </p><p>One more step. And another. He can do this. Just one more step. No matter how much his knees want to buckle underneath him. No matter how much he wants to give up and just become part of the ever-present snow. Just one more step. </p><p> </p><p>The storm cuts off abruptly and Lambert's ears ring from the sudden lack of deafening noise. It takes an insane effort to look up. Around him is grey stone, the inside of a cave. The color of the rock seems to be the most vibrant thing he's ever seen compared to all the snow outside. </p><p> </p><p>Tufts of white-ish fur stick to the walls here and there and there's a small pile of bones stacked in the far corner. He must have stumbled upon the monster's lair by accident. </p><p> </p><p>He drags Aiden's lifeless body a little further inside before he drops him carelessly to the ground and falls to his knees next to him. </p><p> </p><p>It's still bitterly cold in the cave but at least they're mostly protected from the biting winds here. </p><p> </p><p>He leans down next to Aiden and finally manages to make out the wound. The monster's claws have cut deeply into his shoulder and scratched over his chest. Blood oozes out of it sluggishly. The cold has probably kept him from dying of blood loss so far, but that won't help him survive if he freezes to death instead. </p><p> </p><p>Lambert drops his bag to the floor and takes out his medical equipment, then goes about stitching the wound up and wrapping it in bandages. </p><p> </p><p>A red spot immediately forms on the wound dressings around the deepest part of the gash. He's not certain that Aiden will heal fast enough, even with his enhanced Witcher abilities. Despite Lambert's best efforts, Aiden might not make it through the night. </p><p> </p><p>"If you die on me, after all this trouble I went through," he threatens, "I will drag you out of hell and kick your ass right back to oblivion." </p><p> </p><p>The only response Lambert gets is that his own teeth start to chatter. </p><p> </p><p>He'll have to do something against the cold. Good thing he still has some Summer's Kiss potions with him. That'll warm them until the stupid storm is over and they can head back to the village. </p><p> </p><p>He rifles through his bag once more and pulls out one of the flasks with the bright orange liquid inside. </p><p> </p><p>Then he goes searching for the other. His fist closes around the neck of the bottle and his hand shoots upwards. </p><p>Something's wrong. The potion is too light. </p><p> </p><p>He examines what he produced from his bag. Below his fist the bottle neck ends in sharp edges. </p><p> </p><p>Broken. The second bottle broke and leaked the potion into his bag. </p><p>It must have happened when he dodged the monster's attacks and rolled over the frozen ground to regain his balance. </p><p> </p><p>Lambert stares at the sad piece in his hand for a full minute, as if the concoction would magically reappear if he only waited long enough. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, he curses and throws the shard away before carefully turning his bag inside out. A few more bottles are broken and he's left with two Cats and some Black Blood. Nothing that will even remotely help him in this situation. Then again, he already knew that he only had two Summer's Kiss left. </p><p> </p><p>He grabs the intact potion and turns back to Aiden. His face is sickly pale and his lips are more purple than blue now. He's close to freezing to death. </p><p>Lambert kneels down and pulls Aiden's head into his lap. Then he feeds him the potion, bit by bit. </p><p> </p><p>That's all he can do for now, though. There's no fire wood or anything else to maintain a flame and going back out into the storm is definitely out of the question. It's a miracle he found the cave in the first place, he'll never make it back in the blizzard. </p><p> </p><p>So he sits down with crossed legs and watches the slow rise and fall of Aiden's chest. </p><p> </p><p>Lambert usually struggles with meditation, but today, for some reason, his mind drifts away momentarily. It's just so much easier not to move anymore. To just let his aching limbs rest… </p><p><br/>
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</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"… bert…" </p><p><br/>
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</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"...leave me…"</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>"Lambert, wake up!" </p><p>"Woah!" </p><p>Lambert tears his eyes open, breaking the thin layer of frost that has formed on them. The first thing he sees once his eyes adjust to the dim light is Aiden staring back at him. </p><p>He's still lying on the ground where Lambert left him, arm reached out in his direction, and his face is still far too pale for Lambert's liking, but he's awake. That's more than Lambert could have hoped for. </p><p> </p><p>"N-n-n-no need to yell at me," he snaps back, his chattering teeth taking away the edge of his annoyance. "W-w-what do you want? Go back to s-sleep". </p><p>The storm is still raging outside but now there's even less sunlight coming through. It must be getting close to dusk. How long was he out for? </p><p> </p><p>He should definitely check on Aiden's bandages, see if he needs to redo them. But the idea of moving seems like such an enormous effort. He'll just rest for another five minutes. Yeah, that's a good plan. His eyes slowly drop closed again. </p><p> </p><p>"Lambert! Stay with me you idiot!" Aiden snarls. </p><p> </p><p>"What?" Lambert shouts back. "L-leave me alone!" </p><p> </p><p>He opens his eyes once more and watches a number of different emotions pass over Aiden's face, too quick to follow. He'd almost say there's concern in the mix, but that would be silly. He's not the one who almost bled out today. </p><p> </p><p>"Lambert," Aiden repeats, now in a whiny tone. He still manages to sound teasing, though. </p><p> </p><p>"What d-do you want, Cat?" Lambert grunts, annoyed. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm cold," he replies with a pout. </p><p> </p><p>"You have got to be k-kidding me," Lambert deadpans. "I gave you a p-potion!" </p><p> </p><p>"Must be some weak ass shit you brewed together if I'm already freezing again," Aiden grins. </p><p> </p><p>"W-weak?" he huffs in indignation and jumps to his feet. "Ungrateful piece of shit! And what do you want m-me to do about it?" </p><p> </p><p>"Come cuddle with me!" Aiden demands and bats his eyelashes. </p><p> </p><p>"H-hell no!" Lambert returns and crosses his arms over his chest. "I don't cuddle." </p><p> </p><p>"But I'm oh so c-c-cold," Aiden taunts, his smirk growing wider. "Don't you want to keep me from freezing?" </p><p> </p><p>"Urgh," Lambert groans as he drops down next to Aiden, who wraps his uninjured arm around his waist and pulls him closer. </p><p> </p><p>"How can you be cold?" Lambert complains. "You're like a furnace! My potion is working fine!" </p><p> </p><p>"Stop wiggling!" Aiden orders. "You're such a baby!" </p><p> </p><p>"My legs are tingling," he snaps back. "You try to hold still after your legs fall asleep!" </p><p> </p><p>"Thank the gods," Aiden mumbles under his breath. </p><p> </p><p>"What?" Lambert huffs. </p><p> </p><p>"Nothing," Aiden sighs. "Just stay close, alright?" </p><p> </p><p>"This never happened," Lambert bites back. "He's cold, he says. Needy bastard." </p><p> </p><p>Soon enough, sleep overcomes him. There's little to do but wait, after all, and the warm weight at his back is far more comforting than he'd ever admit. </p><p> </p><p>When he wakes up next there's bright, unfiltered light shining in from the entrance of the cave. The storm has passed over night. </p><p> </p><p>The weight of an arm draped over his waist is gone, though. Alarmed, Lambert sits up. </p><p> </p><p>Aiden is kneeling in the far corner of the room, re-bandaging his wound. </p><p> </p><p>"Morning, sunshine," he greets with his ever-present smirk. "Missing my sweet embrace already?" </p><p> </p><p>"Fuck off," Lambert growls and gets up to stretch his aching limbs. </p><p> </p><p>"What happened to the monster, by the way?" Aiden prompts conversationally. "The Alderman wants proof of death or he won't pay." </p><p> </p><p>"Are you insane?" Lambert yells, his patience finally gone for good. "Why are you so obsessed with this? You nearly died and for what? You could've just waited till spring! Nobody takes a contract that late in the year!" </p><p> </p><p>"Nobody survives the winter with an empty purse," Aiden returns, suddenly serious and without looking up from where he's packing Lambert's medical kit back together. "There's no place to stay for a Cat. Not like you have." </p><p> </p><p>Lambert just gapes at him, open mouth and all. </p><p> </p><p>"You risked your life because you're broke?" he manages finally. "Why didn't you say something?" </p><p> </p><p>Aiden is still not looking at him. He's done packing the little medical bag, but he's fidgeting with the buttons. </p><p> </p><p>"Careful now, Wolf," Aiden teases. "One could almost get the idea that you care about me." </p><p> </p><p>"Certainly not," Lambert huffs. "Anyway, next year you're coming with me to Kaer Morhen. I'm not running after your sorry ass again!"</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. A Christmas letter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dear Eist, </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The winter solstice is drawing nearer and I miss you both more and more with each passing day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which is, of course, why I write this letter to you and not to grandmama. She would have my head for such sentimentality. 'Pull yourself together, girl,' she would yell. Though I know of course that she misses me, too, even if she would never admit it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I know you haven't heard from me in forever. It was Jaskier’s idea to write this letter, but I've been putting it off for years now. I'm not entirely sure why. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In my defense, it's been a crazy couple of years. After the fall of Cintra I spent most of the time running for my life and, to be honest, it's all a bit of a blur when I try to look back now. I was so scared and lonely without you, without my family to protect me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then one day I looked up and suddenly I was surrounded by family again. I don't know when or how it happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I guess it's just one of these things that come gradually and then one day you look back and realize that you can't remember it ever being any other way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I wish I could introduce you to them all. I can only imagine what kind of chaos that would be. They're quite a colorful bunch. But let me tell you about them at least:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's Geralt, of course. My Witcher Surprise. He's grumpy and broody all the time and at first I was very intimidated, but as it turns out he's only doing it to hide what a softie he is on the inside. He reminds me a little of grandmama in that way, but don't tell her I said that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then there's Yennefer. We didn't get along at first. I think she was jealous of me when we first met, though over what I have no idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But we grew close, eventually. She still calls me "ugly one" - like she had when we first met - but now it's with a wink and her voice full of fondness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She's so fierce and powerful and elegant and I wish I could be more like her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier just kind of showed up one day. The others didn't bat an eye and he just travelled along with us, so I'm assuming that's something that happens regularly. He's always talking or singing and telling stories and he's the only one who calls me princess or your highness anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also told me stories about my mother. I know grandmama only wanted to protect me when she kept all that from me, but it was good to hear what she was like. Jaskier says I look exactly like her, except I'm even prettier. He's full of shit, but he means well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's also the other Witchers of Kaer Morhen, Geralt's family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel is very shy and quiet, but he gives the best hugs and when I ask him to twirl me around and no one else is there to see us, he always does. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert can be quite a prick, but you just need to know how to snarl back and he leaves you alone. Besides, if you plan to play a prank on someone, he's the one to ask for help. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vesemir is very calm and collected, but he tells the best stories, better even than Jaskier’s. Don't tell him I said that, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So as you can tell I'm in good hands. Mostly. It's always chaos, of course, but to be honest I wouldn't have it any other way. Life as a Witcher/Mage/Nuisance, as Lambert would title me, is certainly more interesting than getting married off to some entitled nobleman. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No offense, of course. But grandmama marrying you is different, anyway. I doubt I'd find another man quite like you. You're one of a kind and grandmama already snatched you away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don't know what the future holds for me. I wish I could have you and grandmama by my side for it all. But I know that where you are now, you are together and watching over me like you always have and that's how I know I can take anything fate still intends to throw at me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, I gotta go now. Jaskier told me to meet him in the kitchen, apparently he has a surprise for me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tell grandmama I say hello!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Love, </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Falling asleep by the fireplace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <span>When Geralt returns from cleaning the stables, he finds the great hall mostly deserted. Everyone seems to be off and busy with something. Only little Ciri cowers in front of the large hearth, curled up into a tight ball. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt steps closer in order to ask if she wants to go for a round of sword training. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, as he gets a better look at the small figure, he realizes that Ciri isn't really sitting but rather lying in front of the fireplace. It seems she has fallen asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considers if he should pick her up and carry her to her room but decides against it. Being roused would only wake her up, and given that she fell asleep in the middle of the day, it would appear her body needs the rest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So instead he only grabs the thin blanket from Vesemir's favorite armchair and drapes it over Ciri's shoulders, before he leaves the room to turn back to his chores. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He spends the next half hour or so making several attempts at brewing some of the more complex Witcher potions but they're just not turning out quite right. He sighs and decides to check on Ciri. A break will probably do him good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finds Ciri in the exact same spot he left her, now gently snoring. Everything is exactly the same. Except for one detail. On top of the blanket Geralt draped over her, there is now an additional blanket. Jaskier usually keeps it at the very bottom of his pack and Geralt is pretty sure he doesn't know that Geralt is aware of its existence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's pink and very soft, with yellow flowers embroidered all over it. Judging by how worn it is, Jaskier probably had it since childhood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grins fondly and returns to his potions. This time they turn out just right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he's done he checks on Ciri again. She's still vast asleep. Someone has put a glass of water and a bowl of porridge on the nearby table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blankets have slid off Ciri's shoulder, so he pulls them back into place and heads out to chop some firewood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he's done he returns to the great hall and places some new logs in the fire so Ciri won't get cold. The stack of blankets has increased once again. At the top now lies the fur of a Yeti Lambert and Aiden slayed two years ago. It's Lambert's most prized possession. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next to Ciri rests the giant teddy Jaskier bought for the girl and Geralt had to haul around for a month and then up the mountain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs and quietly leaves the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the hallway he runs into Yennefer, who's clutching something against her chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing with the Xenovox?" he asks, baffled. The only people she could contact with it are already in the keep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What? Nothing," she replies. "Here, take it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoves the device in Geralt's hands but keeps the velvet pillow it had been resting on, before she quietly sneaks into the great hall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt shakes his head fondly as he heads to Yennefer's quarters to return the Xenovox. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He busies himself with various chores around the keep until evening, when he heads back to get Ciri into her bed after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, he finds her awake though. The water and porridge have disappeared and she's sitting at the foot of Vesemir's favorite armchair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The armchair is occupied by its usual inhabitant and resting on Vesemir's knees is the story book Jaskier bought him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Geralt, join us!" Ciri demands. "Vesemir is telling the story of the mirror that curses people to be hateful. It's really good!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighs and comes closer. He's never been able to deny Ciri anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Dancing in the snow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"That's a new song, isn't it?" Ciri asks with big eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Indeed, princess," Jaskier confirms. "The Countess de Stael commissioned me to write a piece so catchy, that it will even get her grump of a husband to swirl her around the dance floor." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How will you know if it's going to work, though?" Yennefer joins in on the conversation and studies him across the campfire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, not to brag, but," Jaskier muses. "For the past two verses even Geralt has been tipping his foot along with the rhythm." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Am not!" Geralt protests and jumps to his feet. "Your imagination is running wild again." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My, I haven't danced in ages," Yennefer purrs as she gets up as well and gingerly drapes her arm over Geralt's shoulders. "None of the peacocks at the courts I frequent have the balls to ask me. Apparently I'm intimidating or something ridiculous like that. And that empty field over there would make for a perfect dance floor." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, ask Jaskier, then," Geralt grumbles as he eyes her warily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh?" Jaskier teases. "Does that mean you will be providing the musical accompaniment? I didn't know you could play!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why is it that whenever either of you wants something from me, I suddenly feel like a rabbit caught in a trap?" Geralt huffs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Must be your imagination running wild," Ciri shrugs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And you got the kid in on it, too!" Geralt whines. "But you won't win this time. The snow on that field is far too deep for such nonsense." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That can be easily remedied," Yennefer replies chipperly. She grabs Geralt's hand and places her other arm around his waist. Then she twirls around herself, dragging Geralt along with her, and when they come to a halt again their feet hover an inch above the ground without touching it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I hate magic," Geralt huffs, defeated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Now, I expect perfect form," Yennefer threatens. "And don't you dare look at your feet!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier starts playing again, Geralt and Yennefer dance across the wide field without disturbing the glittering snow and Ciri watches them while occasionally rolling her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"When the bell brought in Midwinter </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I waited for a sign </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A shadow, of a wing </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This has always been </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The children know this, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That she will come to them </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To them </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To them </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Snow Angel, Snow Angel, Snow Angel </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She'll make her way </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And she'll stay </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For a Time, For a time</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In the dark of this Midwinter, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The moon slipped from night </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A shadow, of a wing </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This has always been </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Children know this </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And she'll stay, for a time </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And it's time"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier, what are snow angels?" Ciri asks at the end of the verse, when he's only playing the melody without singing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, uhm…," Jaskier huffs. Yennefer curiously glances in their direction, while Geralt uses the opportunity to glance at his feet, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, snow angels are terrible, frightening monsters," Jaskier makes up. "Even Witchers don't dare face them!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I bet I could kill one!" Ciri beams. "What do they look like?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier has no idea, actually, what an angel is, or why the children's game, where you lie down and make figures in the snow, is called that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it matters if he did know. He would never pass up an opportunity to tell Ciri the wildest of tales whenever there's something she doesn't know about because of her secluded upbringing. It's just too much fun to see how long it takes her to figure out Jaskier is messing with her. She falls for it every time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feigns having to focus on the melody he's still playing to buy some time and come up with something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It has to be believable when Ciri comes across some other kids making snow angels. So, first things first!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They walk upright, just like humans," Jaskier explains. "But their legs are these huge, triangular pillars. And instead of arms they have large, leathery wings growing out of their shoulders, like a bat." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri looks at him wide-eyed. So far so good. What else? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Their teeth, uhm…," </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yen and Geralt still twirl around the empty field. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Their teeth rotate in their mouth," Jaskier blurts out. "Anything that gets in there is torn to shreds in an instant!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri gasps in horror and excitement. He should probably be concerned how much joy the kid has with descriptions of gruesome monsters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They hunt by burying themselves under the snow," he continues while playing his tune. "Then, when someone walks above them, they break out of their hiding place, grab their prey and fly upwards into the sky. The victim is never to be seen again; the only thing that remains is the outline of the monster where it was hidden in the snow!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri side-eyes the wide field suspiciously. "You really think there could be one here in this field?" she asks, her voice trembling with both fear and anticipation. "Should Yen and Geralt be out there, then?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, there probably ain't one here," Jaskier soothes. "They are pretty rare after all." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ow, damnit!" Yennefer curses. Ciri and Jaskier jump to their feet, alarmed and ready to throw themselves at whatever attacked her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's the third time you stepped on my foot, you oaf!" Yennefer chides. "After the pirouette you need to take a step backwards, not forwards!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, right, haha," Jaskier chuckles nervously. His heart is beating like crazy, his lute lies discarded on the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second he was convinced an actual snow angel would break out of the field and whisk his lovers away. Maybe he should stop telling wild stories to Ciri, after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I wonder if I'll ever see a snow angel," Ciri pouts, clearly disappointed about the actual source of Yennefer's yelling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know what?" Yennefer huffs, exasperated. "That can be arranged!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly she shoves Geralt backwards. With a surprised grunt Geralt flails his arms around widely, as gravity takes a hold of him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He falls backwards and sinks deeply into the snow, creating a perfect imprint of a snow angel on his way down. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the song is snow angel by Tori Amos. I didn't know it before, I just googled "songs with snow angel in the lyrics" xD<br/>It's real pretty though!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The last day of work/class before the holidays</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jaskier’s songs clearly hadn't reached this tiny village yet. Nowadays when Geralt travels through somewhere, the people are far less openly aggressive and distrustful than they used to be when he first set out on the Path. But here in Hommeln everyone glares at him as if he just murdered someone in cold blood in the middle of the street. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunate. Geralt was hoping for a contract, but people who react this mistrustful to his presence never have work for him. Otherwise the fear of the nearby monster would outweigh the fear of the one who hunts them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After this village they'll use the next split in the road to separate. Jaskier will head to Oxenfurt and Geralt will make his way to Kaer Morhen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's looking forward to seeing his brothers again after a year apart and he's certain Jaskier can't wait to get back to his own elected hometown. Still, taking on one last contract together would have been nice. Letting the year end with a bang, as Jaskier would put it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't like that we have to stay the night here," Jaskier hisses. Geralt had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he missed the way Jaskier curled his hands into tight fists. He's glaring back spitefully at every villager that passes them, when they look at Geralt disapprovingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We can't camp outside anymore, it's too cold for you," Geralt reminds him. "But we'll head out early tomorrow and interact with the people as little as possible. It'll be fine." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier only huffs unhappily and makes his way towards the inn without another word. Geralt makes sure to follow him quickly lest Jaskier starts a fight without his supervision. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The innkeeper's face lightens up when she sees Jaskier and then visibly falls when her eyes land on Geralt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good lady," Jaskier greets in a voice that very much implies the opposite sentiment. "We were hoping to take a room for the night. Though I have to admit, I'm a little concerned we'll wake up in the middle of the night to a mob armed with pitchforks. Do people not learn manners in this part of the Continent?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighs. That's exactly what he had hoped to avoid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least the bar room is almost empty. There's only two patrons sitting in the far corner, an old man and a younger lass. They urgently whisper to one another. Geralt can't quite make out the words but the way they keep throwing glances in his direction tells him enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Aye, you'll have to excuse the locals," the innkeeper answers Jaskier’s question. "We ain't got no monster problem 'round these parts so we're a bit miffed what business a Witcher's got with us." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Just passing through," Geralt tries to placate in the same moment Jaskier yells "Miffed? That's a funny word for 'outright hostile'!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hannah!" the man in the corner calls out sternly. All three of them look up as the girl he was sitting with comes towards them with determined steps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man hesitates another moment then shakes his head and rushes out the door. Probably to rouse the pitchfork-swinging mob Jaskier mentioned earlier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You!" the young woman, Hannah, addresses them as she points a slightly shaking finger at Geralt's chest. "Are ye that White Wolf fella? Like from them songs?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So the villagers have heard Jaskier’s songs after all. They've simply been immune to their charm. Jaskier won't like that at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why, yes," Jaskier preens. "The very same. Would you like to hear some of them? In fact, I'm currently working on a brand new ballad about the-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah clearly couldn't care less about the bard's ramblings. Her eyes haven't left Geralt once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Is it true what they're about?" she cuts Jaskier off. "'Bout the Striga that you turned back into a lass? And the vampiress you let go? Not very witchery, innit?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I protect people," Geralt grumbles as Jaskier opens his mouth to complain. "Sometimes that means saving so-called monsters from the people who pay me to slay them out of misguided fear." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah exchanges a meaningful glance with the innkeeper. Geralt inconspicuously takes a step to the side so he's standing between Jaskier and the two women. With muscles built from years of field work and from hauling heavy tankards around, they could do quite some harm to the bard if they wanted to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Maybe you can help us then!" Hannah determines. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt blinks, surprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uhm, sure?" he asks more than replies. That's not what he expected at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's them fairies," the innkeeper sighs, her brow furrowed with concern. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I thought you didn't have any monsters around?" Jaskier throws in, having been ignored for too long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We don't!" the innkeeper confirms hastily. "You ain't to harm 'em! They're a helpful lot!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah scoffs at that. She's clearly under a different impression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We've always been on good terms with the fae folk," the innkeeper insists nonetheless. "Up until a few weeks ago when they started acting all weird, makin' people get turned around in the forest an' spoilin' part of the harvest. We dunno what we did to upset 'em." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We tried talking to' em," Hannah continues. "Sent a few people into the forest. They all came out again after a few hours, bit confused for a few days but otherwise fine. That is 'till my sister insisted on going to talk to' em." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Your sister didn't come back?" Geralt guesses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's the big question, innit?" Hannah replies. "Something came out, alright, but it ain't acting like my 'lil sis at all! She's such a sweet lass! Clumsy and with her heads in the clouds all the time, sure, but the kindest soul I've ever met. The thing that came back wearin' her face only spews hate!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If you could see what's wrong with the fae like you helped them other critters we can pay you a pretty sum," the innkeeper adds. "Just don't hurt 'em!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ya need to fix what they did to my sis," Hannah counters. "I don't care what it takes!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why don't we take a look at the young lady first of all," Jaskier tries to calm the situation. "Let the expert determine the type of problem we're dealing with here." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That the two women can finally agree on. Hannah leads them outside where the rest of the villagers have gathered, led by the old man who sat with Hannah earlier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least there aren't any pitchforks in sight. Yet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We've hired the Witcher to fix what's wrong with Sybille," Hannah announces to the group. Immediately the villagers erupt into heated discussions. Everyone seems confused why the once peaceful fairies have turned hostile and everyone has a different opinion on what to do about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah uses the general commotion to grab onto his and Jaskier’s arms and drag them away unnoticed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She brings them to a small house at the edge of the little settlement and leads them inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The interior is barely lit by a single candle that casts more shadows than light. Without a fire in the hearth, it's bitterly cold in the small chamber. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt nearly misses the hooded figure cowering in the corner of the room. He only notices them by how they're quietly mumbling gibberish to themselves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uh, hello? Madame Sybille?" Jaskier asks cautiously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At that the figure turns to face them and slowly rises to their feet. Geralt positions himself in front of Jaskier protectively and considers if he should draw his sword. Hannah hadn't mentioned anything about someone dangerous, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The figure, a young woman barely grown out of childhood as Geralt can see now, focuses her piercing green eyes on him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The Butcher of Blaviken!" she accuses with a trembling voice. Geralt stumbles backwards a step. He hasn't heard that title thrown at him in a long time thanks to Jaskier’s work. He starts feeling a little nauseous from all the memories and emotions the moniker brings back to the surface of his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You kill in cold blood when it suits you!" the woman shrieks. "Your indecisiveness and refusal to get involved dooms those you claim to protect! The people are right to call you a monster!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ey, now, lady, hold on a second!" Jaskier protests. Geralt is caught off balance by the woman's words and doesn't manage to keep Jaskier from squeezing past him. He strides towards the strange woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes flicker over to Jaskier with definitely inhuman speed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And you," she beams. "Useless troubadour! You're a shallow, petty little thing who can't even protect himself. Always hiding behind those stronger than you, latching onto their fame like a slimy leech. What have you ever accomplished on your own?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I, uh," Jaskier stutters and slowly lowers the finger he had pointed at the woman accusingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You see?" Hannah cries out. She has entered behind them and now hurries over to her venom-spitting sister to drape the hooded cloak she's wearing tighter around her shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's been like this ever since she came back from the forest. It's like she can only see the worst in people anymore. She tries to run away when I try to make a fire but otherwise she just sits in the corner and insults anyone that comes in." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm," Geralt hums and slowly steps closer. Sybille eyes him disdainfully for a moment before she cowers down in the corner again, completely ignoring his presence. Geralt kneels down in front of her and examines her carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His medallion vibrates against his chest. There's definitely some sort of magic involved here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You said Sybille was the only one this was done to?" he asks. "What makes her different from the other villagers that went into the forest? Is there any kind of connection between Sybille and the fairies that they would treat her differently?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pointed silence he gets from Hannah is answer enough. He looks up to find Hannah chewing on her lower lip, clearly debating with herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She's my half sister, really," Hannah reluctantly explains after a few moments. "My father didn't stick around. We were better off that way, mother always said. We never lacked anything, not like other families without a man to provide. Mother made regular offerings to the fairies and we never wanted for anything. Then one night, when I was barely a year old, she returned from the forest a few hours later than usual. She told the old lady who was watching me that day that she met the most beautiful person she had ever seen in the woods. Nine months later Sybille was born."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So she's one of them?" Jaskier clarifies. "Partly, at least." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Which is why this whole situation makes no sense at all. The fae told my mother that they live in symbiosis with us. That they help us because we give to them in turn. No one understands why they turned hostile suddenly or why they would harm Sybille in particular."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't think the fae wanted to hurt your sister at all," Geralt replies slowly as he turns back to Sybille who stares past him apathetically. "I think the fairies suffer from the same affliction that has befallen your sister. Turning malicious when they used to be kind and benevolent? It's the same symptoms." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room is quiet at that revelation. Geralt turns around. Even Jaskier gapes at him, surprised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So we're not dealing with evil little critters that want to eat us alive for once?" he beams excitedly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Only once we cure this strange illness," Geralt corrects. "Best to stay close to me until then." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah sneaks them to the edge of the forest behind her little hut, out of sight from the other villagers who are still arguing whether they can trust a Witcher not to harm 'their' fairies. Hannah promises she'll have calmed the populace by the time they return and will have collected suitable payment from the community. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Pretty gloomy, don't you think?" Jaskier comments after a few minutes of walking deeper and deeper into the woods. "Is it me or are the forests where monsters lurk always particularly dark and foreboding?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm?" Geralt replies. He'd been lost in thought about the nature of the contract. Beings that would normally be categorised as monsters living in symbiosis with humans. Both parties needing one another, or benefitting from the other at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's quite foreign to him. Witchers are solitary creatures. He doesn't need anyone and there's nothing he has to offer to anyone once he's slain their monsters. He wonders what it would be like to have a connection like that with someone… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nevermind , I think it's just you that's gloomy," Jaskier prattles on. "What'ya thinking about?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nothing," Geralt grumbles. He doesn't understand why he feels like he got caught doing something forbidden, but he sure is happy that Witchers can't blush. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So what are we looking for exactly?" Jaskier babbles. "A fairy ring? Weird markings on the trees?" he prances over to the nearest tree and examines it carefully. Geralt considers if he should drag the careless bard back behind him, but there doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary around, so he walks on. Just a normal forest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Though I guess tree markings would much rather be from the lumberjack guild and I suppose ah-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt swirls around, his sword is in his hand in an instant. Jaskier seems fine though. He rubs a spot on his neck, pouting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Think something stung meee-ooh." Jaskier’s eyes gloss over, unfocused, and his arm drops limply to his side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier!" Geralt calls out, alarmed. He grabs the bard by his shoulder and shakes him harshly. Jaskier goes with the movement like a leaf in the wind but otherwise doesn't react to Geralt at all. His empty eyes stare right through him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck," Geralt curses as he turns back towards the forest and steps in front of Jaskier. Though, whether that actually puts him between Jaskier and the attacker is anyone's guess. The forest lies empty and eerily quiet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What about that one?" a voice mumbles. Geralt has to strain his ears to make out the words, despite his enhanced senses. To a human it would have been indistinguishable from the wind blowing through the tree crowns. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice sounds absent-minded, almost bored. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's not human, but he isn't one of us either. Not like that girl was. What do we do with him?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt hastily scans the treeline. There, on a branch in front of him, stands a tiny, winged creature. Its grey skin dotted with specks of white and blue makes it nearly indistinguishable from the snow that got caught between the tree's leaves. Geralt's eyes passed over the spot twice before they settled on the little figure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The miniature bow it holds in its hands seems more like a toy than a serious threat, but judging by Jaskier’s condition and the gentle humming of Geralt's medallion the arrows must be infused with magic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Let's take him with us," another equally emotionless voice answers the first. Geralt curses, but even though he knows what to look for now he can't spot the second fae. Who knows how many more there are? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Artyom will decide what to do with him," the voice continues. It still sounds about as entertained as if it were watching a single blade of grass grow. "If he doesn't approve of the stranger we can always kill him." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll come with you!" Geralt calls into the forest. "But only if you let the bard go!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No," a third voice declares unemotionally. "But he can come with you for now." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that Jaskier behind him suddenly starts moving. Geralt turns around to watch as Jaskier slowly steps around him and heads deeper into the forest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs Jaskier’s wrist to hold him back and Jaskier stops walking mid step, his left foot hanging in the air. There's a light tug against Geralt's grip but other than that Jaskier still ignores his presence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck," Geralt huffs again and considers his options. He could just grab Jaskier and make a run for it, bring him back to the safety of the village. But he doubts the fairies would simply let him do that. He underestimated the threat already. Who knows what else these creatures are capable of? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the other hand they didn't seem to be hostile so far. Well, other than the threat to Geralt's life. But the fae haven't harmed any humans yet and this is probably the best chance Geralt has at getting to the source of the problem. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Dammit, Jaskier," he grumbles, not because Jaskier is actually to blame for the situation, but because after saying the phrase so often it helps to ground him. It would help ease his nerves even more if Jaskier would reply with the usual banter, but there's only silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a sigh Geralt lets go of Jaskier’s arm and follows his puppeteered guide deeper into the woods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After half an hour Geralt is pretty sure that he's being led in a circle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another hour later he could swear he passed that particular tree already. However, the next piece of forest looks different from what he expected from his memory. It's almost like the same path leads to different places in these strange woods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, Jaskier stops dead in his tracks. Geralt walks right into him. He uses the momentum to twirl Jaskier around and shove him behind his back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They've reached a small, perfectly round clearing amidst a number of trees so ancient and tall that their interwoven crowns block out the sun completely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not dark in the little circle, though. Winter seems to stop at the edge of the clearing and between the sea of wildflowers covering the ground sit hundreds of fireflies. Another handful of the glowing bugs swirl around the air and cast eerie shadows on the surrounding tree trunks. A sickly-sweet scent hangs in the air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt's medallion vibrates stronger. He looks up. The branches above him are filled to the brim with more of the tiny creatures that attacked Jaskier. Without the snow they are clearly visible against the brown and green of the forest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt gulps. The fairies glance at him with blank faces, their eyes almost as empty as Jaskier’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What have you brought me today?" a deep voice booms across the clearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A large shadow separates from its brethren at the other end of the clearing and steps closer. As soon as the dim light peels the darkness from the hunched over figure Geralt recognizes it as an ice troll. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>According to Geralt's studies they're supposed to be extinct. They're very definitely not supposed to live in lush forests. According to the "guide to mountain dwellers", which all Witchers must read during their training, ice trolls are supposed to live in icy caves at the top of mountains. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A Witcher!" the troll shrieks. Its voice sounds distinctively like nails grating over ice and causes Geralt to shiver. "You brought a Witcher to your sacred place! Don't you know that they are even worse than the filthy humans that hunt my kind for sport? The Witchers take people like you and me apart until they know how to kill us even more gruesomely!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A wave of whispers erupts in the trees above them, like wind blowing through leaves. After a moment the murmuring stops as suddenly as it started. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not here to hurt anyone!" Geralt quickly reassures. "The humans sent me to negotiate, to find out why your people have turned on them." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Turned on them?" the troll spits out. "Pah! I've freed them from their slavery! Humans are atrocious monsters that only ever exploit others. I simply made the rightful owners of this forest see the truth. I've liberated them!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not all humans are like that!" Geralt protests. "The people in Hommeln are grateful to the fae and want to live in peace with them again." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lies!" the troll barks and the word is repeated in the tree crowns above like a quiet prayer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"lies-lies-lies-lies-lies" the fairies hiss disdainfully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt watches them carefully. Something is quite wrong here. Whatever has the fairies lash out against humans, it's not natural. The troll must have done something to them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Release Jaskier from the spell you put on him!" Geralt demands, facing the fairies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why?" the troll mocks. "So you can prove to us how humans are oh so good and merciful? This world belonged to magic creatures first before you filth came along!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not for my sake," Geralt corrects. "What you put on Jaskier is only a simple mind control spell, it'll wear off on its own in due time." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least Geralt hopes so. It's how it went for the other humans that ventured into the forest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Whatever you did to these fae is causing them harm," he continues. "Some of them look like they're about to pass out. If this little magic puts that much of a strain on them, there's something seriously wrong." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nonsense!" the troll protests. "Putting a shard of the ice mirror into someone's heart is entirely harmless! The only effect is that you see humans for the monsters they really are!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if to prove him wrong a handful of fairies fall off their branches and land on the ground, motionless. Half the fireflies that swirled in the air settle on the flowers beneath them and start flickering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bullocks!" Jaskier curses behind him. "Geralt, what's going on?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Impossible!" the troll shrieks. "The ice mirror doesn't hurt anyone! It didn't hurt me!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wait, ice mirror?" Jaskier repeats. "Like in the old fairy tales? Makes you see only the worst qualities in others and blends out all the good stuff? Do you have some of the shards? I have to take a look at that!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier!" Geralt growls as he grabs the bard by the back of his collar. He had weaseled his way past Geralt and attempted to run right towards the troll. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How about you don't run to your death and make yourself useful instead? What does the story say about killing fairies?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, nothing actually," Jaskier replies with a pout. "The troll is right. Having a shard in your heart makes you apathetic and hateful but it doesn't cause harm." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Great," Geralt deadpans. So they still have no idea what's going on and can't convince the troll to undo what he did to Sybille and the fairies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But," Jaskier continues, "I'm not surprised the fairies are suffering. The villagers said they live in symbiosis with them. I reckon the fairies need human happiness or something like that to fuel their magic. Isn't that just romantic?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No that can't be true!" the troll bellows as he picks up one of the fallen fairies. It lies unconscious in his claw. The fairies that remain in the trees simply watch. Apathetic, as Jaskier had put it. Another one falls down. Nobody moves a finger, nobody tries to hold it back before it tumbles off its branch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're not doing the fae any favors," Geralt presses. "Look at them, they don't even care that their companions are suffering. You've turned them into exactly what you believe humans to be. You're the one who enslaved them!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Then fix it, Witcher!" the troll demands. "If there's really any good in you humans, then help them before it's too late! Before this realm loses its magic completely!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Just remove the shards!" Geralt counters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can't!" the troll whines. "I don't know how! It's impossible!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Gentlemen, please, calm yourself!" Jaskier throws in chipperly. "You're scaring the fireflies!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt lets go of Jaskier’s doublet in favor of pinching the bridge of his nose exasperatedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier immediately darts forward and stretches his hand towards the troll. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't think we've been introduced!" he beams. "Jaskier, the bard. And you are?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Artyom," the troll replies, in almost the same tittle-tattle tone as Jaskier. "Most definitely not pleased to meet you. Though I have to admit you're the first human who's ever asked me my name. Usually they just call me 'aaargh' or 'Melitele save me!'" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier!" Geralt huffs. "Focus! Is there a way to remove the shards in your story?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why, yes, of course!" Jaskier returns. "Every good story has a happy ending and every curse can be broken! Hmm, I wonder what would fit best for the occasion?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that Jaskier grabs the lute from his back and starts playing. He plays a song about a young girl that loses her childhood friend to an evil winter witch. She sets out to bring her friend back home and after overcoming several obstacles, finds her friend under the influence of a mirror shard just like the fairies they are trying to free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cursed boy recognizes how much his friend loves him and starts weeping and with that the shard melts from his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the last notes cling out Geralt looks up to the fairies sceptically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The song's effect is immediately noticeable, though. Howling and crying noises echo through the clearing. Some fairies cling to one another and weep into their neighbour's shoulder. Gradually, their skin changes color. Instead of wintery grey the branches now shine with every color of the rainbow. Golden dust drizzles from the tree crowns and catches in his nose, nearly causing him to sneeze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wuuhaaa!" the troll sniffles. "The girl loved her friend so much that she risked everything for him! What a beautiful story! Boohoo!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt watches, baffled, as the ice shards growing out of the trolls back melt away to reveal fluffy growth and meaty mushrooms. A moss troll? He was under the impression that's a different species altogether. The more you learn…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier bows deeply before he grins at Geralt widely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Now, dear Artyom, if you'd please excuse us, I believe there's a girl waiting for me to make her cry. It's been nice meeting you, don't get in any more trouble and don't hurt any humans so we won't have to hurt you. Farewell!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We make a pretty good team, don't we?" Jaskier asks as they watch Hannah and Sybille embrace each other tightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no song involved this time. Geralt simply pinched the girl's arm until tears filled her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Unromantic buffoon!" Jaskier had called him, though he already doesn't seem to be upset anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm," Geralt agrees reluctantly. All he knows is that it's going to be a very long and lonely winter up in Kaer Morhen.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. An odd Christmas tradition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>bit late today...whoops...the day kinda got away from me, it was 5pm like a minute ago xD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Well if I can't bring Jaskier or Yennefer you can't bring Aiden either," Geralt pouts and crosses his arms over his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Aiden is also a Witcher!" Lambert protests. "Your twink wouldn't even survive the journey to the mountain peak!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vesemir sighs. The bickering has been going on for hours now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yennefer can just portal them up, it'll be fine!" Geralt returns. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert sticks his tongue out at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Only Wolf Witchers," Vesemir decides. "Ciri can come this year but that's it. Geralt, you are responsible for her." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That seems to settle matters. Lambert glowers at him but it's such a common occurrence that Vesemir would have been concerned if he hadn't. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Half an hour later the four men gather at the gates to the crumbling Witcher keep, wrapped in several layers of wool and fur and carrying a wooden box with all the things they'll need for the ritual. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri is perched on Geralt's shoulders and watches everything curiously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The track up to the mountain peak is quiet. The Wolves are not keen to chat in anticipation of what awaits them and Ciri seems to pick up on the solemn mood. Despite the many questions that are written across her face, she contents herself with clinging onto Geralt's broad back and enjoying the view. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, they reach the small cave overlooking the highest point of the mountain range. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sets Ciri down while Eskel and Lambert carry the box with their supplies inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all still remember their first time performing the winter solstice ritual. Vesemir knows how intense the experience can be. He grabs little Ciri by her hand and leads her into the vast cave. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three younger Witchers start preparing the ritual in the back of the cavern room but Vesemir leads the girl straight to the heavy stone square in the middle of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens the ancient tome that rests on top of the carved lectern, preserved by the freezing cold alone, and flips it open on a random page. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Who are they?" Ciri whispers as she scans the rows upon rows of names written on the page. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Witchers that came before you," Vesemir explains solemnly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Will my name be written here as well?" Ciri asks, wide-eyed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not for a very long time," Geralt, who has stepped up behind them, replies. "Your name is written after you die." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vesemir steps aside and lets the younger Wolf rifle through the pages. Eskel joins him and together they take in the names of the children who underwent the trials at the same time as them, but didn't survive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert cowers in the corner and pretends not to give a damn, like every year. Vesemir still notices the way his shoulders tense and shake slightly. Their shared past is a difficult topic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a moment Geralt flips to the last marked page in the book. It carries the name of the Witcher that fell to the Striga in Temeria many years ago. When Geralt brought home his medallion, it had been decades since Vesemir had last seen the Wolf; not since the Witchers' keep fell to their enemies. Still, he grieved for yet another lost son. There are so few of them left now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Another year without casualties," Lambert snarks. "Hooray!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Let's try to keep it that way," Eskel replies solemnly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, would be a shame if there's no one left to put our names in the stupid book," Lambert huffs. "Let's get this over with already! I don't like leaving that Cat alone for too long, he always gets in trouble!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vesemir nods courtly and they all take their seats on the floor around the chalk pentagram Lambert drew on the ground. Vesemir signals for Ciri to sit down next to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"To the past!" Vesemir declares as he lights the first of the candles on the star's tips with a well placed Igni sign. "May those whose time came before ours rest peacefully and find their way into the next world." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"May Kaer Morhen remain steadfast and offer a safe haven for our brothers in arms," Lambert recites with a roll of his eyes before he ignites the next candle with a flick of his wrist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"May the Path be kind to us and offer plenty of payment." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"May we bring honor to the School of the Wolf," Geralt and Eskel recite in turn before lighting their respective candles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ciri, you are the youngest," Vesemir whispers. "Repeat after me: May humanity-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"May humanity," Ciri repeats in a serious tone and sits up straighter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"- be protected from the horrors that threaten it," he finishes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"- be protected from the horrors that threaten it." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vesemir grabs the pack of matches Eskel laid out and hands it to Ciri, who lights the last of the candles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That will be your job from now on, little one," Eskel announces seriously. "To protect humans when they can't protect themselves." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri nods earnestly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"To another year," Vesemir concludes in addition to the traditional words. "May we all meet again." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So can we get to the good part already?" Lambert whines. Without waiting for an answer he walks over to the chest they brought and grabs the Black Gull he stored in it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ciri can't drink that!" Geralt chides. "I hope you brought something for her as well." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, yeah, I got some apple juice for the wormling," Lambert replies dismissively. Then he sits down by the pentagram with two bottles in his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"To the dead 'n all that," he declares before taking a big gulp out of one of them. Then he passes the first bottle on to Eskel and hands the second to Ciri across the drawing on the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do y'all remember Lambert's first solstice up here?" Eskel grins before he takes a sip himself. "He was so nervous that he had to hold Geralt's hand throughout the whole procedure." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, yeah, you tell that story every time," Lambert complains. "Don't listen to their bullshit, Ciri!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's not how I remember it," Geralt huffs as he takes the bottle from Eskel. "Didn't he drink too much and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>had to hold onto </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>so he wouldn't fall off the mountain?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That might have been it," Eskel agrees. "Though baby Lambert had nothing on Gustav that one time we switched his tobacco with catnip! Do you remember?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After an hour or so of telling stories the little group is in much better spirits. Well, except for Lambert, who still pouts demonstratively, but then again Vesemir wouldn't have expected anything different. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert is, however, unusually quiet when they make their way back down the mountain. Usually he rambles on about how dumb and pointless this whole ritual is, but today he barely even grumbles a reply when Ciri tells him how much she liked the story about Aiden and the Yeti. Normally he would use the opportunity to boast. Vesemir wonders if he should be concerned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaer Morhen's various guests wait for them in the grand hall when they get back. Jaskier immediately bombards them with questions while Lambert hesitantly steps over to the strange Cat Witcher. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Had fun?" Aiden asks, barely audible over the bard's ramblings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Life's pretty short, isn't it?" Lambert replies solemnly. "Listen, there's something I need to talk to you about. About you and me and some stuff." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Finally," the whole room sighs in unison as Aiden pulls Lambert in for a passionate kiss. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert flips them off as he returns the kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Picking out the right Christmas tree</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"How about this one?" Geralt asks and points to the side of the trodden path. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's… Geralt that's shrubbery," Ciri replies flatly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And we're looking for…?" Geralt prompts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A tree, Geralt!" she huffs as she throws her arms up. "Large!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Remind me, what's this for again?" he wonders, barely managing to suppress a grin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri groans and runs a gloved hand over her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's the third time Geralt has asked that question. He made sure to count. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's a tradition in Cintra, okay?" Ciri huffs. "You put the tree up inside and hang little charms on it for decoration." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Geralt nods seriously. "I think I got it now." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good," Ciri replies skeptically and turns back towards the path. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That one over there then!" he calls out and points into the distance. "That one's perfect!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri looks in the direction he’s pointing at. Then back at him for a moment before she turns her eyes to the indicated area again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Please don't tell me you mean that dead thing over there?" she sighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's huge!" Geralt returns with fake excitement. "One of the biggest trees around Kaer Morhen. Would be a shame to cut it down; the apples are delicious in autumn. But if it makes you happy, I'd be willing to part with it." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But it's dead!" Ciri repeats. "There's no leaves on it!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, it is winter," Geralt points out. "Trees lose their leaves in winter." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not all of them," Ciri objects, though she does sound uncertain. "There's some that are green in winter. They don't have leaves, though. It's more like… Hmm…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Moss? On the trunk?" Geralt provides unhelpfully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, that's not what I mean!" Ciri protests. "They're like, I don't know. Thin and pointy." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A fern?" Geralt purposefully misunderstands. "They're not green in winter, Ciri. Plus they're not trees." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not a fern," Ciri groans. "But the name is similar … oh, what was the word again?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Firn," Geralt suggests as he continues walking. They've gotten quite far from the keep already. "Farn. Fern? No wait, we already had that." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fir!" Ciri bursts out suddenly. "A fir tree!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, you mean an evergreen!" Geralt marvels. "Why didn't you just say so?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walk on in silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well?" Ciri asks after a while. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, what?" Geralt replies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Where can we find an evergreen tree?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh there aren't really any evergreens around Kaer Morhen," Geralt replies chipperly. Or rather, Geralt knows exactly where all the evergreens are and how to avoid them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Seriously?" Ciri snaps and stops dead in her tracks. Geralt pretends not to notice at first and walks a few steps ahead before he turns back to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then where are we going?" she demands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"For a walk?" Geralt asks rather than replies. "Isn't that why we're out here?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We were looking for a tree!" Ciri all but shouts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, right!" Geralt huffs and hits his hand against his forehead. "I guess I forgot." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You forgot!" Ciri gapes at him, mouth hanging open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sorry," Geralt shrugs without even a hint of remorse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well this is pointless then. I'm going back," Ciri decides. "Guess I'll ask Lambert to cut down the big one in the courtyard, after all," she mumbles, more to herself than to Geralt. "I know it's too big to fit through the door but maybe we can cut it smaller somehow…" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt considers for a moment. He's not sure whether he's bought enough time already. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wait!" he calls after Ciri. "I just remembered, there's a spruce tree just over that hill there!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri stops walking and just stands there for a moment, shoulders tensed. Then she turns around and narrows her eyes at Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This had better be good," she threatens as she catches up to him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt gives her the most encouraging grin he can muster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leads her over the hill and to the tree he had in mind. Ciri examines it carefully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So, what do you think?" he beams. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Weeeeeell," Ciri drags out. "It's, uhm...cute?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tree in question is a pitiful little thing. If you're generous you could say that it reaches up to Geralt's chest. But that's only if you grab the tip and forcefully hold it upright. It's so windswept that it grew more along the ground than away from it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, I guess if that's the only one in the area, it'll have to do," she sighs. "I just really want to do this, so I can feel closer to my grandmother. She would have turned fifty this year and thinking about the festival we would have had in her honor makes me miss her more than usual." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, so I fell this little excuse for a tree and then we put it up in the dining hall," Geralt clarifies. "Did I get that right?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, and then we decorate it!" Ciri beams. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Decorate it with what?" Geralt asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, well, you know," Ciri mumbles. "Uhm. There's stars made of straw I think?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you know how to make them?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No," Ciri admits quietly after a moment. "There's also salt dough decorations, like cookies but it becomes solid and durable when you bake it, but I don't know how to make that either. Sorry, I guess I didn't think this through very much." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I still enjoyed our walk," Geralt reassures her. "Come on, let's get back home!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's run out of ideas on how to stretch their little trip out further, anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ciri is in a bad mood when they get back to the keep. She almost manages to hurl open the heavy gates by herself in her anger. Though Geralt suspects she's mostly annoyed with herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Meet us at the training grounds in five!" he orders as he heads towards the backyard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What, seriously?" Ciri groans. "Ugh, fine, but don't complain when I yell at Lambert again. I swear, last time he was close to tears. He acts all tough but my grandmother would have eaten him alive if she had ever met him!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He joins the others who are excitedly waiting in the backyard. Five minutes later Ciri trudges through the door as well, kicking a pebble around and frowning at the ground as if it offended her personally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks up with confusion on her face which quickly turns into gaping wonder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In their absence all the other inhabitants of Kaer Morhen got together and decorated the large fir tree that looms over the training grounds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Geralt was a decoy!" Ciri realizes with glee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course none of the Witchers know how to make straw stars either. Instead, they gathered every single trinket anyone ever brought back from a monster hunt. Various horns, fangs and tufts of fur decorate the tree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scraps of parchment dangle between them on red strings, with little poems written on them in Jaskier’s flourished handwriting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The glass baubles Yennefer summoned the other day as a prank round up the picture. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I tried to undo the enchantment that made them yell insults at everyone but I guess doing magic so close to the solstice messed it up somehow," Yen whispers in Geralt's direction. "I don't know why they're singing winter songs and I don't know how to make it stop." </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Obnoxious singing of Christmas songs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It's a lazy evening in the grand Hall of Kaer Morhen. Geralt doesn't mind. He enjoys quiet evenings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's playing a round of Gwent with Lambert to pass the time, Eskel is sitting by the fireplace, mending clothes, and Vesemir's reading a thick tome about the types of monsters typically found in Temeria, the worn parchment rustling every time he turns a page. Yennefer has taken Ciri to bed and Aiden is off Melitele knows where, exploring the keep or whatever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only Jaskier is disrupting the peace. He's pacing up and down the room, and, even though Geralt has his back to him, he can practically feel the boredom oozing off of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt's shoulders tense in anticipation. Jaskier and boredom are a dangerous combination. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, Geralt can do little about the impending catastrophe at the moment, because if he leaves the table Lambert will insist he forfeited the game. And the only thing more dangerous than a bored Jaskier is a smug Lambert. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, the weather outside's quite frightful, isn't it?" Jaskier prattles away as he passes one of the windows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Snow storms are common in the area this time of year," Eskel explains without looking up from his work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh no, not that one!" Geralt sighs, earning him a confused look from Eskel and a smug glare from Lambert who just put down a card. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, but Geralt," Jaskier muses. He sits down next to Geralt and leans his head on Geralt's shoulder while looking up at him with those damn puppy eyes. "At least the fire is so delightful!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt shrugs him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't even try snuggling up to me, you traitor!" he growls. "You know I hate all that cheesy winter music!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But since we've no place to go?" Jaskier pouts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert's head perks up. "Oh, now I get it! It's that song!" he beams before providing the next line, rather off key: "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s face lights up in an instant. He jumps up, climbs over the table rather than walking around it and bumps his shoulder into Lambert's as he drops down next to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Man, it doesn't show signs of stopping," he trills. "And I brought some corn for poppin'" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vesemir turns another page in his book and raises his eyebrows without looking up. The rustling of the page is almost in tune with the song. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh?" Lambert grunts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier mouths the next words silently and Lambert sings "The lights are turned down low?" a little uncertain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I hate you both," Geralt groans and buries his face in his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow," Eskel joins in, sounding surprisingly pleasant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Traitor," Geralt declares just as Jaskier sings "When we finally kiss tonight," and bats his eyelashes at Geralt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There will be no kissing tonight!" Geralt announces. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ouch, that's harsh," Lambert comments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Cruel, almost," Jaskier agrees, pouting once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And all that, after he's so selflessly given his heart to Geralt!" Eskel joins in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No!" Geralt huffs in horror. "That one's even worse!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Last winter!" Jaskier belts out at the top of his lungs. "I gave you my heart!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel and Lambert sing the next line in unison: "But the very next day, you gave it away!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This year," Jaskier sings even more passionately, which Geralt would have thought impossible until then. "To save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that Jaskier makes his way over to Eskel, drops himself in his lap and presses a kiss to the scar on his cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Really?" Geralt deadpans. Eskel pulls Jaskier closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Once bitten and twice shy," Jaskier croons. "I keep my distance but you still catch my eye!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He bats his eyelashes at Lambert, who winks back at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Aaah!" Geralt howls like a wounded animal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier opens his mouth to sing the next line. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Enough!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud bang echoes through the hall as Vesemir snaps his book shut. Geralt's brothers flinch at the sudden interruption, while Jaskier squeaks and nearly falls off Eskel's lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Finally," Geralt mumbles under his breath. "Someone who's on my side." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, in the deepest bass Geralt's ever heard, Vesemir sings:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The Holly and the Ivy, When they are both full grown." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's what I'm talking about!" Jaskier cheers before he stands up straight and joins in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of all the trees that are in the wood," they sing in unison, creating a harmony that even Geralt has to admit is beautiful. "The Holly bears the crown." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Vesemir raises his hand to cut Jaskier off and looks at Geralt expectantly. Everyone else follows his gaze until Geralt squirms under their combined scrutiny. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs and mumbles "Oh, the rising of the sun," with a roll of his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vesemir narrows his eyes by a fraction, forming the same disapproving expression that always managed to set Geralt and his brothers straight as kids. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Geralt knows what's happening, he's on his feet and singing the next lines in earnest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And the running of the deer!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier grins and looks the happiest he's ever been in his entire life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck," Geralt huffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that Jaskier knows that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>sing, Geralt's life will never be the same again. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So the songs are, obviously, Let is snow and Last Christmas.<br/>What Vesemir sings is a carol named The Holly and the Ivy, which I didn't know before, but that might just be cuz I'm not a native speaker.<br/>Unfortunately I couldn't find a rendition of it on youtube where it's sung really deeply, cuz that's how I imagine Vesemir singing it. If anyone knows of such a recording, feel free to send it my way xD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. The Traditional Christmas dinner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Just one more day, buttercup," his mother pleads, lingering in the doorframe to his room. "Surely those people can do without you for one more day."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You've been saying that for the past two weeks," Jaskier mumbles, distracted by the search for his good winter cloak. "I really have to get going. The mountain path leading up to Kaer Morhen snows over in the winter. If I don't leave soon, I won't make it at all. Aha!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs the colorful end of his most atrocious scarf, that's peeking out from under his bed. When he gives it a tug it produces both the rest of the scarf in all its multi-patterned glory, as well as the grey cloak it's wrapped around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strange. How had they gotten there? Jaskier could have sworn he put the items in his closet upon his arrival at the Lettenhove Estate. Same as most of his personality, if he's being honest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not that I didn't enjoy checking in with you guys again," Jaskier lies and presses a kiss to his mother's cheek as he passes her on the way out. "But I promised I'd visit Geralt at his home again this winter." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wraps the cloak and scarf around his shoulders and heads down the winding staircase of the vast Lettenhove Estate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll stop pestering you tomorrow, I promise!" his mother calls down from the balcony that overlooks the staircase. "But I have arranged this dinner tonight and there's some lovely people attending whom you just have to meet!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I told you, mother, I have no interest in getting married off," he chides without looking back or slowing down on his way to the estate's main entrance. "I'd say 'give father my love' but since he didn't bother coming out of his study to say goodbye, I doubt he cares." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And with that he's out the door and finally breathing in the sweet scent of freedom again. At last this ordeal is over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Admittedly, he avoided a visit at his parents' place for far too long over the last couple of years, but now that he showed his face again and even stayed for a few weeks, they'll hopefully be off his back again for a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hates how his parents parade him around to other nobles like he's some sort of trophy, pretending like he's the perfect son who's going to take over the title and estate one day, even though Jaskier does his best to avoid his home while his oldest sister is practically running the place already. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe one day his parents will get the memo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But until that happens Jaskier will continue to avoid Lettenhove to the best of his abilities. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He skips on the way to the stables, humming a song for the first time in days. Pegasus greets him by turning around in his box and presenting his backside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Now, none of that, you lazy horse!" Jaskier trills. "Aren't you excited to ride all the way to the Kaedweni mountains and conquer the dangerous path to the Witchers' keep? Yes you are, 'cause you have no choice!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The snort he gets from Pegasus in reply sounds almost human. Or, well, witchery at least. Jaskier can barely contain his excitement after he finally manages to get Pegasus out of the stables and gets on his way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he'll even meet Lambert this year and finally get to know Geralt's whole family. Either way, it's going to be another amazing winter, with Geralt, Yen and Ciri all to himself and no one trying to murder them for a change. It'll be perfect! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few hours later Jaskier’s good mood has vanished without a trace. So has the world around him, swallowed up by the snowstorm that caught him off guard. At this rate, he won't make it to the Kaedweni Mountains any time soon. At this rate, the path up to Kaer Morhen will be unpassable soon enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, the thing is, Jaskier isn't very good with all the nature-y outdoor survival stuff. He's much more adapted to places that are warm, dry and inhabited by things that try to kill him with daggers rather than teeth. But you can't exactly follow a sour-faced Witcher around for twenty years without picking up a thing or two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the thing he picked up about snowstorms is that they never hit out of the blue. There's always at least a day or two where the weather builds up to it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the bright, sunny skies the late autumn provided throughout the last couple of days, there's no way Jaskier could have gotten caught in a storm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not unless someone ain't playing fair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs, defeated, and turns Pegasus around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now that they're heading back in the direction that promises warmth and the expensive kind of horse feed, Pegasus immediately picks up the pace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get back to Lettenhove in the late afternoon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier throws the reins to the next best stablehand without a word and storms off towards his father's study. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as he intends to burst through the door, it opens on its own and Jaskier comes face to face with a young man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks rather lost in the elegant robes he's wearing, like he's not used to such expensive garments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fresh off the academy, Jaskier presumes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lad smiles apologetically and tries to squeeze past him. Jaskier has other plans, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, no, no, no, you're coming with me," he declares and drags the lad with him into the room by the back of his collar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Behind the vast desk occupying most of the opulent room sits Jaskier’s father. He looks up at the commotion with an expression that manages to be smug and annoyed at the same time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You hired a mage to keep me from going to Kaer Morhen?" Jaskier yells, his entire body pulsating with anger. "With a fucking snowstorm?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Your childish behavior warranted drastic measures," his father sighs and turns back to the documents on his desk. "When we received the letter about your visit, your mother and I had hoped you'd given up on your ridiculous rebellious phase, but alas." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So, what?" Jaskier presses out between clenched teeth. His hands, one of which is still grabbing onto the mage's robes, are curled into tight fists. "You're going to keep me prisoner here forever?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't be silly," his father replies with a click of his tongue. "A viscount obviously cannot afford the wages of a court mage on the regular. This little stunt of yours was already costly enough. However, your mother has been planning this dinner for weeks now so you might as well do her the courtesy of attending. I don't share her hopes that you'll be swayed by a nice young woman and finally settle down, but then again, I suppose there's no harm in hoping."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You have got to be kidding me!" Jaskier hisses. "You're ruining my entire winter for a single stupid matchmaking dinner? With all the snow you had conjured I won't be able to make it up the path anymore!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"All the better," his father mumbles absentmindedly and waves his hand dismissively. "Maybe some time away from those brutes and criminals will make you see reason. Now if you'll excuse me, I have more important things to do than listen to your whining." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier doesn't have an answer to that. He only manages to gape at his father. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uhm, can I go then?" the mage at the other end of Jaskier’s arm squeaks meekly. "Given that this doesn't really concern me?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fat chance," Jaskier huffs, finally managing to find his words again. "Since you're the only mage around I'll need you to make a portal for me!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, uhm," the mage stutters. "Well, you'd have to outbid your parents, I suppose, which I don't think you're-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't bother," Jaskier cuts him off. "There's exactly one mage on the Continent I'd trust to create a stable portal. And you ain't her. No, I only intend to send a message through. I won't have my loved ones worry about me all winter." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, well, in that case that'll be cheaper," the mage babbles. "The rate for that would be-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier lets go of the mage's tunic so he can glower right into the lad's face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That mage I mentioned earlier?" Jaskier huffs, barely more than a whisper. "Her name is Yennefer of Vengerberg, you might have heard of her. I'm her lover. I'm sure she'll be </span>
  <em>
    <span>elated</span>
  </em>
  <span> to hear the name of the sorcerer that kept us apart all winter." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ah, uhm, huh, well," the lad stutters. "How about I send that message on the house? Special price for a special friend!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm," Jaskier replies and gives his best impression of Geralt's disapproving glare. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uhm?" the mage mumbles, sweat dripping off his forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well?" Jaskier snaps. "Are you gonna fetch me some paper or what?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes sir!" the mage blurts out. "Right away sir!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know," his father addresses Jaskier once the message is sent and the mage has scrambled out the door as if being hunted by a Barghest. "I really don't know why you don't want to take over the title after me. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> have what it takes." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"See, that's exactly the problem," Jaskier returns coldly. "If a job's only requirement is that you need to be able to yell at people, I really don't want it. But I suppose there's no point in trying to explain that to you." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two hours later Jaskier finds himself sitting at the far end of the large dining hall, dressed in his most distinguished (meaning most boring) outfit and seated between two overly eager noble women whose names he has already forgotten again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mother must have ordered them to woo Jaskier no matter the cost, because they just won't stop doting on him, pinching his cheeks, laughing way too hard at every. Single. Word he speaks and brushing their hands against various parts of his body "by mistake". They must have a lot of social status to gain if they were to marry into Jaskier’s family, judging by how eager they are to gain his attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Five minutes into the dinner Jaskier already feels like he's suffocating, squished between the two women as he is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's a third woman seated across from him, barely older than Ciri, who looks about as uncomfortable to be here as Jaskier feels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She might have made for an interesting conversation partner, at least, if he would have managed to get two words in between the advances of the other two. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gods, how he wishes Geralt or Yennefer with their death glares could be here right now. Unfortunately, the two women were utterly unimpressed by his own rendition. He really ought to practise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He blends out the utterly boring story about an unruly housecat lady-to-the-left is telling and focuses on the door to the kitchen, hoping that the next course will be served soon so that he'll get at least a short moment of silence while everyone's busy eating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead of the kitchen door, he notices the one to the hallway opening and Bernard, the steward rushing in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strange. With a dinner party this large the steward should be occupied in the kitchen all evening. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bernard hurries to the middle of the long dining table, where Jaskier’s parents are seated, bows, and makes an announcement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier has to strain his ears to catch what he's saying over the general noise of various guests chatting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There's a trio of strange people at the door, demanding to be let in. They claim they're invited to Lord and Lady Pankratz's dinner this evening." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nonsense," Jaskier’s mother replies dismissively. "All the guests have already arrived. Who are these people?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I didn't think her Ladyship would have invited them," Bernard explains. "But I wanted to make sure. One of them appears to be a court mage and the girl spoke in such a manner that she has to be of noble birth. I would have bid them in immediately if it weren't for the company they keep. But there's a Witcher with them!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They're with me!" Jaskier immediately yells across the room as he jumps to his feet. The whole room falls silent and stares at him. Jaskier gulps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They're my personal guests," he declares, trying to muster his most authoritative tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It comes out an octave too high to be convincing, but Bernard takes the hint and, with a wink in Jaskier’s direction and a "very well" towards his parents, he disappears into the hallway again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You invited someone else?" his mother all but shrieks. "But what about the seating arrangement? I've worked on that for days!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No worries," a gruff voice replies from the direction of the door. "We'll just pull up some chairs." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And in walks Geralt, followed by Jaskier’s other two favourite people in the world, Yennefer and Ciri. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Pull up some chairs?" his mother replies, now genuinely shrieking. Judging by the expression on her face, Geralt might as well have suggested something akin to offering her firstborn as the sacrifice in a blood ritual. Then again, the attack on the seating arrangement probably counts as the bigger affront between the two. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unimpressed by his mother's outburst, Jaskier’s "guests" make their way over to him. With a flick of Yennefer's wrist, an additional three chairs appear at the table, one next to the young lady that suffered with him and the other two on either side of Jaskier’s seat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lady-to-the-left and lady-to-the-right huff and puff disapprovingly, but as Geralt and Yennefer sit down next to Jaskier they have little choice but to move their chairs to the side in indignation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing here?" Jaskier beams as he hugs both his lovers in turn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Your message said you were attending a family dinner," Yennefer explains with a smirk. "We figured you can't actually do that without your family present. So we came." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know, I'm actually a princess," Ciri throws in and bats her eyelashes at the girl Jaskier’s mother tried to set him up with. She giggles nervously in response. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I love your doublet," Jaskier tells Geralt. It's silky and black and suits the Witcher tremendously. "We basically match!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you hate yours as much as I hate mine?" Geralt grumbles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, well, but that's for different reasons," Jaskier replies. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> look good in black. I just look like a corpse. Besides, I wouldn't complain about it too loud. I bet Yennefer picked it out for you." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's that about my taste being questioned?" Yennefer chimes in. "Did I hear someone ask to be turned into a frog?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I love your dress," the man seated on the other side of lady-to-the-right addresses Yennefer condescendingly, seemingly without taking notice of the conversation they just had. Based on his position at the table he must be Lady-to-the-right's father who's attending the dinner to set up a profitable union for his daughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When was this style in fashion again?" he adds coldly. "Two years ago? Or was it three?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yen, no!" Jaskier and Geralt call out in unison as Yennefer raises her hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But I just said-" Yennefer protests. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hush, darling," Jaskier soothes. "You look wonderful, as always. They're just jealous that no one else could pull that dress off." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yennefer still has that murderous glint in her eyes, but Lady-to-the-right is saved from being orphaned by the next course being brought in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good, I'm starving," Geralt comments and grips his knife and fork more like a sword handle than cutlery. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Geralt," Ciri hisses across the table. "At least try to blend in with the nobles!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why, though?" Jaskier shrugs and shoves an entire potato in his mouth as his plate is placed in front of him. Now both girls across the table giggle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Brutes," Yennefer huffs with a roll of her eyes that indicates she's above such ridiculous behavior. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, she twirls her finger slightly and the sauce on her plate animates into tiny figures. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lady-to-the-right gasps, affronted, and clutches a hand over her mouth while making eye-contact with Jaskier’s mother, as if to demonstrate that she would never dream to display such improper behavior. The sauce copies her immediately.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lady-to-the-left snickers, to everyone's surprise. Especially her own. Now all three ladies, sauce or not, have their hands clasped over their mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt snorts, while Jaskier and Yennefer break out in laughter. Once again the whole room falls silent and glares at him. Jaskier can't find it in him to give a damn anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mother, father!" he calls out, his voice echoing powerfully across the quiet room. "May I introduce to you the man and woman I intend to marry?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The look he gets from his parents in response almost makes up for the ordeal of the last few weeks. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Watching the snow alone and watching the snow together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Epilogue </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier has never seen so many Witchers in one place. It's gotten rather lively at Kaer Morhen this year. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert is climbing around in the rafters, collecting scraps of paper he blew up there with the strange new toy he brought to Kaer Morhen this year. Vesemir is supervising the undertaking and making sure there's nothing left that could be blown into the hearth and cause a fire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aiden and Eskel are leaning over the table, playing a round of Gwent, as well as discussing the best strategy to slay an Arachnomorph, and Ciri demonstrates to Yennefer how to create a Cintran braid, using a disgruntled Geralt as her model. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one notices as Jaskier slips out of the door and into the hallway outside the dining hall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He randomly opens the next best door down the corridor and slips through, closing it behind him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just needs a short breather to collect his thoughts. They won't even notice he's missing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His choice of a hiding place turns out to be a poor one. The door led outside onto a kind of balcony overlooking the magnificent flank of the Kaedweni Mountains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And while the view is breathtaking, it's also bitterly cold. Jaskier wraps his arms tightly around his chest and wishes he'd have the stupid cloak Geralt bought him a few years ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soft snow drizzles down in front of the roofed platform. He starts to shiver. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And isn't that just the problem? It goes to show the vast differences between the people celebrating in the dining hall and himself. They wouldn't be cold out here. But Jaskier is no Witcher. He has no terrifying magic powers and he isn't tied to this whole story by fate's whims. He's just a normal human. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's like one of those puzzle books for small children. "Find the odd one out. Which of these options doesn't belong?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier is the domestic cow in a line of wild animals. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As much as he loves the people inside, he's of little use to them. When push comes to shove he won't be able to protect the Child of Destiny. Not like they can. He's just a silly bard who's only good at getting in the way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone inside is contributing their part to Ciri's journey. They're training her, making her stronger, teaching her how to defend herself so that she can defend humanity one day. Or whatever stupid plan destiny has in store for her. All Jaskier can teach her are stupid stories and raunchy songs. None of that will protect her when things get dire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it's not like he's much use to the others, either. Geralt and Yennefer have each other. Bound by destiny and the djinn wish. Jaskier just sort of weaseled his way in their middle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's not like he doubts that they love him. They've been through too much together for that. But he can't help but wonder sometimes. If he weren't there anymore, would it really make that much of a difference? What does he bring to the equation other than witty one-liners? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s teeth start chattering. He should probably go back inside. But the thought of returning to the great hall and pretending like nothing happened makes his toenails curl. He'll just stay here for another minute and watch the snow until his sour mood passes and he feels like his usual, jovial self again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door behind him opens. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There you are!" Geralt grumbles and steps outside as well. He joins Jaskier at the balustrade and tugs him against his side. It's heavenly warm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We missed you. Ain't the same without a bard to liven up the party." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier scoffs. As if Kaer Morhen ever had a bard before he came along. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's a plop by his Witcher-free side and suddenly Yennefer stands next to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Melitele's tits, Jaskier, don't just disappear like that!" she huffs as she wraps Jaskier’s grey cloak around the three of them. "With your magnet for danger and with how badly this keep is holding together, anything might have happened. Next thing you know, you'll be cursed by an evil troll or eaten by an enchanted snowman or something! And then who'd help me write scalding letters to my enemies at court?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier is just about to point out that Yennefer could just turn anyone who annoys her into a slug, when something bumps into his back suddenly and nearly throws him over the balustrade if it weren't for his lovers' grip around his shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thin but surprisingly strong arms wrap themselves around his middle and a distinctively short body aligns itself with his spine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Look, it's snowing," Ciri marvels. "Good thing, too. That way the path will be unpassable soon enough and you can't escape me when I tell you every last detail about my date I had in Ellander the other day, with the cute girl that works at the blacksmith's." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Your what?" Geralt huffs in the same moment as Yennefer yells "Who now?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huh, maybe there is something Jaskier can still teach the others. If he were a teenager, Geralt and Yennefer wouldn't exactly be his first choice, either, when it comes to dealing with matters of the heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos and comments are appreciated! Thank you~<br/>Say hi on <a href="https://justablobfish.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>, if you want!</p><p>Prompt list:<br/>1. Winter expectations vs. winter reality.<br/>2. We need to buy you winter clothing.<br/>3. Treatment for the flu/ a cold<br/>4. Getting the person who doesn’t like Christmas into the right festive mood<br/>5. Snowball fight<br/>6. Hot tea and cozy sweaters<br/>7. Giving subtle hints of what one would like to get for Christmas<br/>8. Decoration wars (must include glitter)<br/>9. Sleigh rides<br/>10. Reading someone Christmas stories<br/>11. Baking Christmas cookies<br/>12. An unusual snowman<br/>13. Finding a present for that person that is impossible to find a present for<br/>14. The smell of Christmas<br/>15. Holding out in a snowstorm together/Getting snowed in together<br/>16. A Christmas letter.<br/>17. Falling asleep by the fireplace<br/>18. Dancing in the snow<br/>19. The last day of work/class before the holidays<br/>20. An odd Christmas tradition<br/>21. Picking out the right Christmas tree<br/>22. Obnoxious singing of Christmas songs<br/>23. The Traditional Christmas dinner<br/>24. Watching the snow alone and watching the snow together</p></blockquote></div></div>
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